Cracks in the Concrete
by prayforthelight
Summary: Young Brendan, hardly aware of who he is, damaged by the people who have scarred him, meets Ste.
1. Chapter 1

Everyday Brendan took the same path. He jogged past the same trees, saw the same houses, stepped into the same cracks in the concrete.  
It was clockwork to him. He'd pass the day like every other. Waking up from the nightmares of the early morning, going on his jog before the people of the day would start their daily ritual.

Brendan liked the streets at this time. Hardly anyone was actually up yet, so he was able to avoid any interference while on his route. In Springtime he loved the smell in the morning, and though he'd never tell anyone, he loved how the flowers on the trees started to bloom. He loved the sound of his footsteps, heavily thudding on whatever surface he decided to run. He loved working up a sweat and feeling little beads form on his forehead, then slowly drip down his face. He felt powerful. He felt unstoppable.

But it wasn't Springtime, and Brendan couldn't enjoy this. The Winter was approaching, and the leaves were falling off the trees. The wind was cold and would whip at his face and at any uncovered surface. Brendan was finding it difficult to run with the incessant pounding in his head that was telling him his knee couldn't handle it. But he refused to let the pain stop him from jogging. He knew what his knee looked like before he'd left home, and it wasn't looking very good then either.  
Brendan picked up the pace and started sprinting, trying to moderate his breathing as his steps grew heavier and faster.  
Red and grey blurs formed around him as his eyes started to fog. Before he knew what had happened, he was lying on the floor, clutching at his knee and simultaneously trying to get his lungs to stop seizing.

"Fucking knee…" He muttered, as he started to catch his breath again.  
He looked around him and noticed that he was on an unfamiliar street. Brendan pulled himself toward the sidewalk and leaned back against the concrete wall, which was fencing some property in.

He pulled up his track pants and took a look at his knee. A massive purple and blue bruise covered his kneecap, but it wasn't just a regular bruise: it was worse. The colours on top concealed the pain Brendan actually felt. He didn't know how to describe the feeling medically, because he had been raised to know that it's always better to keep these things to yourself. There's no need to go and get other people involved in your business.

"That doesn't look too great."  
Brendan looked up and saw a red-headed kid, staring down at him.  
"Piss off." Brendan grunted, too tired to put much effort into an intimidating response.  
"Do you need help?" The kid asked again.  
"I said: piss off. Do your ears need checking?" Brendan growled in response, mentally preparing himself to get up.  
"Alright, no need to get your knickers in a twist." The kid snapped back.  
Brendan saw red. He jumped up and had the kid up against the concrete fence, his fists clenched around the kid's t-shirt.  
"What did you just say?!" He yelled into the kid's face.  
He could tell the kid was scared. His cheeks had gone completely red, almost blending in to his freckles.  
"Nothing… Nothing." The kid quickly stuttered back.  
Brendan could feel the kid's heart racing through his knuckles.  
"That's what I fucking thought!" Brendan shouted, getting even closer to the kid's face.  
His eyes were squeezed shut and Brendan saw that his cheeks were slightly damp.  
Maybe the kid didn't deserve it.  
Brendan let go and took a small step back.  
"Get the fuck out of my face." He said, turning his back to the kid.

He stopped and just closed his eyes. He took deep breaths in and out.  
Brendan opened his eyes and turned around, unsure of what he'd do if the kid were still there.

Luckily for both of them, the kid had long fled.

* * *

"Brendan, why are you coming in so late?" Blanaid asked the moment the door was opened, "We already had breakfast!"  
"Went on my morning jog, like I do everyday." He responded nonchalantly.  
"Well normally you manage to make it back on time."  
"I'm here now, aren't I?" Brendan replied, getting slightly more agitated.  
"Yes, yes you are," Blanaid said calmly, "And I have some bacon waiting in the kitchen for you."  
Brendan couldn't help but reveal a small grin. He did love bacon.  
"Knew that'd put a smile on your face!" Blanaid laughed.  
Brendan kissed her on the cheek and quickly made his way to the kitchen to find Cheryl sitting at the table, moaning about some useless thing.

"He's such a prick and I don't understand why I've got him as a teacher!" Cheryl whined.  
"Cheryl, just deal with it." Blanaid told her plainly. "We all have things to complain about."  
"But Ma… It isn't fair!"  
"It's Christmas holiday soon anyway." Brendan dropped in, he himself looking forward to it as well.  
Cheryl suddenly smiled and picked up her bag, "Well I need to go in early, so... Bye…"  
Before Brendan or Blanaid could say anything, she was already out the door.

"Brendan, did you maybe see your Pa this morning when you got up early?" Blanaid asked.  
Brendan's blood turned cold. He hated when people would even mention _him_.  
He cleared his throat, "No, not since last night."  
"Well okay," Blanaid responded, disappointment heavily leaded in her voice, "Have a nice day at school."  
She got up and left out the door as well.

Brendan was alone.

* * *

He slowly walked upstairs, the sound of his footsteps echoing throughout the hallway. He walked down the hall and found himself standing outside his door. These moments were moments that chilled him to the bone. The not-knowing. Not-knowing whether he would open the door and be bombarded by pain. Not-knowing if he would open the door and be enveloped in memories.

So he braced himself and opened the door, being confronted by nothing other than his desk, chair, armoire, and bed.

Brendan made his way to the armoire and put his hand up against the wooden doors. There were several dents covering the front of hit. Dents that would go unnoticed by those who didn't know. Unfortunately Brendan did know.

He felt cold. He felt disgusted. He was afflicted.

Before any real thoughts could come flooding back to his mind, he pulled the closet door open and grabbed some jeans, a white t-shirt, boxer-briefs and left the coldness of his room and went to the bathroom.

* * *

The water rushed out of the shower-head and poured down onto Brendan's neck and back. It was warm and soothing. The pressure was just right and Brendan could feel himself relaxing. _Finally_.

He ran a hand over his chest with the soap bar. His daily jog and weight-lifting had definitely been paying off. Brendan could tell he was getting buff. A strong chest paired along with a dark hair that was growing there, was definitely helping him charm the ladies. It was no wonder most of the girls were gagging for him.

A thought crossed his mind. Maybe today he could… He closed his eyes and braced himself. He thought back to the video his mates had showed him of the two girls. After a tiring rugby match on the pitch, his friends and him had decided to go over to Orin's house, who was currently alone at home.

Orin was a total pervert and had all sorts of videos of girls doing crazy stuff. He probably got himself off far more than any normal guy should. It wasn't that Orin didn't get it elsewhere, he just couldn't seem to stop. He was quite a hit among the ladies. Most of Brendan's crew knew what buttons to press.

_"Come on, let's just give it a watch!" Orin had suggested._  
_"We don't want to have a group wank." Sean retorted, the other guys agreeing with him._  
_Brendan had felt uncomfortable. Something didn't feel right. Discussing that stuff with his mates. Discussing girls, that was alright, but this… It felt weird._  
_"It's good though. I promise!" Orin replied, and before the others could stop him, he had already popped it into the player, and it soon showed up on the telly._  
_After a few minutes it didn't seem like any of the other guys had problems with it. They appeared to have fallen into an almost trance. Brendan looked around and saw that some of them had made themselves comfortable. Really comfortable. Brendan saw that Orin had slipped his hand down his pants, right in the middle of everyone. But no one else seemed to notice. Brendan was the only one who didn't have his eyes glued to the screen._

Brendan breath hitched and he felt the white hot release. He regained his breath and opened his eyes. He was back in the shower, the tungsten light shining bright above.

Brendan grabbed the soap bar and thoroughly cleaned himself again.


	2. Chapter 2

School for Brendan had always been easy; it was easy to manipulate his teachers, and his coursework was definitely far too simple. He knew he wasn't stupid, and he knew that a majority of students in his classes were complete airheads who didn't know the first thing about pretty much anything.

But despite the fact that school was 'easy' for Brendan, somehow he'd always felt out of place. He didn't want to excel in school, or he'd been seen as a geek with no life, who only ever has their head buried in books. Though Brendan would never explicitly tell anyone that, he found that he was quite the bookworm. The school library remained unused to most except for the occasional horny teens who'd try and get in some quickies by the dusty collections of encyclopedias.

Tragedies intrigued Brendan beyond all other forms of novels or plays. He found it gripping when the antihero would face a tragic death, or the star-crossed lovers would kill themselves. They were actions of strong emotions. Emotions too deep to describe in simple colloquial terms. They were conflicting desires, abhorrences, grievances, hostilities, vengeance, and so much more. Brendan knew none of his friends would ever express or discuss such feelings, but he also highly doubted that any of them would be capable of the extreme emotions felt in tragedies.

And so that's where Brendan found himself in the afternoon, classes already finished, trying to squeeze in a few minutes devoted to his tragedies. He'd recently finished reading Othello, and was starting the classic Macbeth.

The copies in the library were torn to bits, and had scribbles covering the inner pages, a majority of which were penises. It didn't surprise Brendan. He'd never do such a thing, but he understood that a lot of people his age were simply baboons, and didn't have the brain capacity to understand pieces of literary genius like he had.

He reached for the spot where Macbeth normally stood, but it wasn't in its place. _Shit_. Brendan searched the surrounding shelves, but couldn't find the book. He sighed heavily and slid against the bookshelf to sit on the carpet, back leaning against the heavy shelf. After a few minutes he heard some commotion coming from the book check-out area. It wasn't abnormal to have people checking out books, but it was abnormal that they'd be so loud while there.

"I didn't take the book, right?!" A kid with a funny accent shouted at the librarian.  
The librarian whispered something almost inaudibly as a response, which Brendan wasn't able to make out.  
"Yeah well then your system's wrong. Why in the world would I want to check out some bloody book from the library?" He continued yelling.

Brendan turned over and got on his knees, peaking in-between the shelves to see which thieving kid had caused the fuss. The kid looked just a few years his junior, and had a blonde fringe covering most of his forehead.  
_Looks like a prick_. Brendan thought as he continued watching the kid argue with the quiet librarian.

"Why should I quiet down? You're the one whose system were wrong!" He continued arguing, "I've never even heard of Macbeth!"  
Then with anger in his step, the kid turned his heels and stormed out of the library, leaving the helpless librarian without the book both she and Brendan needed.

Brendan was angry. No, Brendan was furious. He had been looking forward to this moment the entire day, especially after the rough night and morning he'd had. It was his chance to delve into tragedies and not feel as though he were the tragedy himself.

_What a rude little bastard_. Brendan couldn't help but want to hunt the kid down and make him cry. The kid deserved it. When you check a book out, you're supposed to return it. Sure, Brendan didn't always abide the rules, but that was fucking common courtesy and the kid was just being a stubborn shit about it.

Frustratedly, Brendan grabbed his bag, flung it over his shoulder, and left the deafeningly quiet library.

* * *

"Brendan!" Orin shouted from down the hall the moment Brendan made it out the door, "You bastard, have you been in the library?" Orin smirked.  
"Just seeing if there was anyone on the pull in the dusty corner." Brendan saved himself.  
"I should've known." Orin laughed and put an arm around Brendan's shoulder, pulling him down the hallway.  
"The guys are out back, want to come?" Orin asked, unsure of whether Brendan would accept the offer.  
"Yeah, sure, why not?" Brendan responded, discreetly dislodging himself from Orin's grip.

Brendan didn't like when the guys touched him. Something made him feel uncomfortable. He felt too… vulnerable, almost. When people touch you, they have the power to do what they want, they have the power to control you. But when it's you doing it, the power is in your touch; the power is in your hands.

The gang was outside smoking.  
"Want a fag, Brady?" Daniel, the overweight one of the group, asked as he pulled out one for himself.  
"I'm alright." Brendan replied nonchalantly. He didn't smoke.  
"Pussy." Orin and a few others teased.

Brendan showed them his middle finger, and then pulled out a stick of chewing gum. He leaned against the wall, and glanced around, relieved to see that the school grounds had been mostly deserted. While he didn't mind having a lot of people around, sometimes he figured it was better to stick to your own kind.

It was getting colder and Brendan stuck his hands in his trousers pockets, shortly after breathing on them a few times.

"Hey, look there's that manc twat!" Daniel pointed out, his eyes fixed on the figure walking towards the school gates with a few friends.  
"He's such an annoying little wanker!" Eoin chimed in after releasing a cloud of smoke.  
Brendan looked over and watched as the figure moved.  
He heard the manc laughing. Could that even be considered a laugh? It sounded more along the lines of a donkey rather than a teenage boy.  
Then just as the figure turned, Brendan recognised the blonde fringe and his breath was caught in his chest.  
"Someone should give him a smack." Brendan said, not realising that he'd said it out loud.  
"How do you know him, Brady?" Eoin turned and asked, curiosity clearly etched onto his face.  
"Um.." Brendan began, "I don't. He just looks annoying. And sounds it too."  
"Yeah, well, he's a right eejit." Eoin explained as he chucked his fag to the ground and stepped on the glowing end with the heel of his shoes.

Brendan needed to leave. He didn't want to waste his afternoon with these guys, dragging on about whatever. He could do that any time he wanted. Today had been a pain, and he just wanted to do something else.

"I'm off, boys." Brendan muttered quietly before turning away and walking off.  
He didn't know where he'd go, he knew he just didn't want to go home yet and have to face the monster. He wasn't ready for his day to be wrecked.

* * *

The streets were more crowded at this time. People were beginning to end their tiring day and come home. Most people had a family to come home to. A delicious, home-cooked meal would be waiting in their dining room for them, their parents would be eagerly waiting to ask about their children's day, despite knowing that they would only manage to get the usual grunt out of their child. But at the end of the day, everyone in that family would feel safe, because it was just that: they were with family.

Brendan knew what real families were like. They weren't dysfunctional, concealed in deceit like his was. But Brendan knew the underlying reason for this. It was his fault. He'd always been the burden on his family. First on his mother before she passed away, then on his new family. He was the burden. He was the unwanted tumour, that no matter how many doctors looked at, it seemed too close to operate on. Brendan was a lost cause.

He sighed and kicked a fairly large pebble that was in his path.

It was far too cold for Brendan's liking.

And just as the day didn't seem like it could get any darker, Brendan saw him walking towards Brendan. The thief from the library. The annoying manc. The kid who laughed like a fucking donkey.

Brendan wasn't sure what he should do. He was tempted to confront him about the book, but that wouldn't go over too well; it takes the intimidation away when you're interrogating someone about stealing a Shakespeare play.

As the kid approached, Brendan noticed that he was much more tan that he'd originally thought. _Sun-kissed_. No, that sounded far too fairly-like. He'd stick with tan. Brendan saw the kids blue eyes glistening. Was there even sun shining on him? How could his eyes shine like that?

But the closer he got, the more annoyed Brendan felt. The kid had ruined his day. The kid had destroyed his one ray of light in his utterly dull and dark day.

When the kid got within arm's length to Brendan, Brendan lunged out at him without thinking.  
"What the fuck, mate?!" The manc yelled loudly, struggling to get ground on his footing.  
Brendan growled and pushed him further against a tree.  
"What's your problem?!" The manc cried out again, not knowing why he was receiving such treatment.  
Brendan tried to think of something to say. Anything.  
But nothing came to his mind. Nothing other than that the manc had really blue eyes. And eyebrows. Eyebrows like a cat.  
"Let go of me, you psycho!" The manc pushed against Brendan.  
He was stronger than Brendan expected and Brendan stumbled back.  
A smell lingered in the air of deodorant and sweat combined. Not mine. Brendan thought. It smelled somewhat comforting.  
"You're a freak!" The manc shouted and frantically sprinted down the sidewalk, while Brendan remained quiet.

Brendan felt weird. He felt out of place. He felt awkward and he felt like he needed to run. He needed to get away from this. He just needed get away.

So he ran.

The wind swept through Brendan's short, gelled hair, reversing everything Brendan had done to fix it in place that morning. The leaves crunched under Brendan's shoes. It had begun the rain, but Brendan didn't care.

Maybe the rain would help him clear his mind. Or at least clean him of whatever he had just done or encountered. The rain could wash away the unfamiliar smell that still somehow seemed to linger. Maybe the rain could even wash away the feeling that Brendan got when he had the manc pushed up against the wall, a chest getting tighter. Maybe the rain could take away the echoing laughter in his mind.

The rain could wash away his pain.

Even _freaks_ deserved to catch breaks here and there.


	3. Chapter 3

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Brendan sighed, exasperated and flexed his arm.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

The handle was smeared in his own deep, red blood.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

He twisted the handle and let the warm water properly flow. He gently put his hand under the tap. Brendan felt an immediate piercing on his skin. He shook his hand, trying to somehow shake off the pain.

It was his fault really. He shouldn't have come home late. He shouldn't have been riled up by his knee hurting, by the book being missing, and by the stupid manc.

He shouldn't have seen red and let all his pent up frustration out. He shouldn't have slammed his fist into the wall outside his house.

After he'd managed to clean up his hand, he wrapped it in a bandage, and went down to the kitchen. He'd have to brace himself for the questions they'd ask about his hand.

And just as he'd predicted, as he was about to take a bite of his potato and peas, Cheryl pointed it out asking what had happened. Blanaid and Seamus then looked at him curiously, their prying eyes never leaving him alone. Brendan then gave some excuse about how he'd slipped earlier and landed on his hand. Blanaid accepted his excuse, always turning a blind eye on the worse stuff, and Cheryl simply shrugged, telling him to put some cream on it.

But Seamus… Brendan could tell Seamus didn't believe it for a moment. He'd pretend it was okay until later. Until Brendan was alone.

* * *

He was sitting at his desk. His lamp was flickering. The bulb needed replacing soon. Brendan heard the door open.

_What did you do to your hand?_ Seamus asked pointedly, entering the room.  
_Nothing, Da. I just tripped._ Brendan responded, slowly turning around while trying to maintain a calm exterior.  
_Why are you lying to me?_ Seamus snarled in response, getting closer to Brendan.  
_Did you lose in a fight to someone? Is that it?_ He taunted, leaning in far too close to Brendan, his breath warm and uncomfortable against Brendan's skin.  
_No I didn't._ Brendan replied anxiously, dreading the events that would soon follow.  
_You're a fucking liar and a pansy._ Seamus said as his hands came out, jabbing at Brendan's chest.  
_See I think you're a little fairy, and that's why you can't win in a fight._ Brendan felt his body get in defense mode. His arms tightened and his legs strained.  
_Get up!_ Seamus yelled, grabbing Brendan by the shirt and pulling him up, not caring if Brendan would get hurt.  
_Give me your best shot!_ He shouted.  
_Da, no…_ Brendan felt himself breaking down. He knew if he would punch his dad, he'd get it back even worse, but if he didn't, he'd be taunted for being a pansy.

So Brendan did what his dad asked him to. Using only some of his strength, he took a swing and purposely missed.

_You're not a man._ He felt himself being thrown to the ground. _Queer._ He felt kicking in his stomach. _Faggot._ The lights were blurring in Brendan's eyes. _You're asking for this._

* * *

Brendan could only hear sobbing. He tried to sit up but his entire body was aching. The lights were turned off, and Brendan knew he was alone. The carpet felt rough against his bare skin where his shirt had ridden up. Brendan pulled himself up, using his desk as support.

He still heard the desperate gulping of air in-between sobs, soon realising it was himself. Brendan wiped his cheeks in an attempt to clean his face.

He just sat there. His lungs still heavily expanding and contracting. He was tired. He was so tired of feeling this way. He wanted to escape. No matter what he did, somehow he never got it right. What had he done in a past life that was so bad that he deserved such treatment in this life?

Brendan felt cold and so alone. His hand was still pounding from punching the wall. Maybe he'd just go and clean it. But… What if Seamus was in the bathroom? He didn't want to have to run into him. Suddenly Brendan realised that he had the urge to pee. He couldn't put that off for long.

The sound of him getting up, scraping against the wooden furniture, echoed in his room. Brendan made his way to the door and peered out. After seeing that it was clear he made his way to the bathroom. Just as he was about to open the door, it swung open in his face and he let out a massive gasp.  
"Bren!" Cheryl exclaimed in a whisper, "What are you doing up?"  
"Just had to use the bathroom…" He replied quietly.  
She nodded and moved around him, freeing up the door.  
"Chez, why are you up?" Brendan then asked, praying that she hadn't been woken up by the commotion in his room.  
"Same reason as you: had to pee." She smiled and scurried off to her room.

* * *

"Mr Brady, am I boring you?" The annoyed old English teacher asked Brendan.  
"No sir." Brendan promptly responded after realising that he had been yawning a little too obviously.  
"Well then please do not yawn in my classroom." The teacher said angrily before turned around and continuing writing on the board.  
"What a prick…" Eoin mumbled under his breath.  
Brendan laughed and discreetly gave his friend a high-five.  
"Brady, detention." The teacher stated pointedly without even turning around.  
Brendan was about to respond snidely, but thought it was best to leave it. He wouldn't want to have to deal with explaining why he received detention for an entire week.

* * *

When the final class bell rang, Brendan made his way over to detention in no rush. If he was going to have to waste his time, he'd waste the school's time as well.

Brendan hated the school hallways. He hated the ugly beige paint on the walls, he hated the pinned up posters, and he hated the people. He hated how people would just assume you were something, when they knew absolutely nothing about you.

Brendan knew the way to the detention room by heart; he wasn't necessarily _unfamiliar_ with getting detention.

He knew he had built up quite a reputation in his school. Brendan was one of the nasty kids. You wouldn't mess with him or you'd find yourself having a blue eye, or your head being pushed into the piss covered toilets. But most people respected him because of that. No one would try and pick a fight with him, and the girls loved it. In his years of experience, Brendan had learned that girls love a "bad boy". Especially one who, despite their nastiness to most, knows how to treat them right.

Girls had to be carefully looked after. Being in a relationship with one was like carefully conducting a science experiment. You didn't always enjoy the process, but at the end of the day, you'd have results: Brendan would have the most popular girls walking next to him, his arm thrown lazily over their shoulder. Because that's what people respect.

Personally Brendan thought some of the girls tended to be no pleasure and more business. He didn't see what all the fuss was about. They talked too much. They had this constant urge to divulge their every feeling. Brendan couldn't care less if they felt he had been "distant". So he'd just buy them something nice, and pretend to listen as they blabbered on about some trivial issue in their life.

Brendan reached the detention room and pushed the door open, seeing only two other students already seated. The less people that were there, the better it was for him. He went up to the desk in the front of the class and signed in, receiving a nasty scowl from the poor teacher assigned to detention duty that afternoon.

The desks were all spread apart so Brendan would be left alone. He hated being disturbed by the scum that ended up in detention.

He found himself sitting in the back next to the window. The desks and chairs were old and grungy, and every time Brendan moved, it caused them to creak loudly.

Brendan longed to have a book with him that he could lose himself in, but he only had some loose paper in his bag. He pulled that out and started to doodle. Maybe he'd attempt to actually sketch something.

Just as the figure of a man seemed to form on his page he heard a loud sigh coming from the front of the class followed by someone say, "Not him!" in a heavy accent.  
Brendan looked up and saw that it was none other than the manc. Was the kid following him now?

Brendan angrily dropped his pencil and started bouncing his legs in frustration. He felt twitchy.

"I don't even get why I'm here!" The manc was telling the teacher angrily, "The librarian has gone off her head thinking I stole some stupid novel."

_Play._ Brendan thought. Macbeth was a play, not a novel.

The manc signed the sheet and angrily took a spot in the same row as Brendan, six desks down. Good thing. Brendan didn't want to be anywhere near that annoying kid. He observed the kid and watched as a scowl formed on his face. It was obvious that the kid was trying to rebel against the teacher, but didn't have the balls to actually do anything, he just kept sighing and angrily grunting.

Brendan felt himself smile. It wasn't that the kid was funny, it was just funny the way he was throwing a fit. Like a little child, angry that his parents put him in a timeout. His chin stuck out and his brow was furrowed. His nose seemed to stick out a bit, but it suited the manc.

Suddenly the manc turned and looked in Brendan's direction, causing Brendan to immediately look down at his doodle, pretending that he hadn't been looking at him.

"Freak…" The manc grumbled under his breath.  
"I'm not the one who stole a Shakespeare play from the library." Brendan retorted without hesitation.  
"I didn't take the bloody play! The bitch of a librarian just has it out for me." The kid responded angrily.  
"Yeah, whatever." Brendan replied indifferently.  
"Hey, you two in the back," The teacher snapped, "Shut it."

Brendan knew there was something in that kid. Something different about him. Like some sparks that could be ignited. Passion. A passion for something… He stopped. Why was he even thinking that way? He didn't know the kid. The kid was just some annoying nuisance. Probably some kid who picked too many fights in school, got meddled with the wrong crowd. Then again, who was Brendan to talk?

After an hour had seemed to drag on forever, the teacher in charge grunted and told the four students they could leave.

Brendan was the last out of the class, but just as he walked out the door, he impulsively turned back with intent. He wanted to know the manc's name.

He flipped around the check-in sheet and found a name scribbled beneath his own cursive handwriting.

_Steven Hay._


	4. Chapter 4

As a man there were certain things you had to do to prove yourself. That's what Brendan knew. To be a real man, he had to show it.

He had to be able to provide. Being young was no excuse for not being able to have an income. So that's why Brendan got mixed up in his little "business". He'd buy hard-liquor for some of the younger kids who felt the need to get pissed with a group of their own friends, no other aim except doing just that. Here and there he'd get his hands on something more serious that he would then deal. Brendan ended up getting a fair percent of the profit, so as long as he wouldn't get caught, he didn't see a very big risk.

Brendan knew what he could handle and what he couldn't. He didn't find some of the serious stuff very good, because he had the possibility of losing control over himself. He was scared of what he'd do if he got that way. Or what he'd say.

One of the other things Brendan knew would help prove yourself was to have a girl on your arm.

And that's why Brendan was standing outside the French class of Eileen, a girl two years younger than he was. Eileen was seen as a jewel by most of the guys Brendan's age. He could see why they thought she was; she had a pretty face, she seemed friendly, and she wasn't as easy as most of the other girls he knew.

As the bell rang, a group of people poured out of the class, sighs of relief filling the silence.  
"Au revoir!" Brendan heard Eileen say as she walked out of the door.  
He touched her arm and asked if he could talk to her.  
"So Eileen," He started, "How are you?"  
He smiled, trying to give a friendly impression. She was _pretty_.  
"I'm fine, and you, Brendan?" Eileen replied gently, her cheeks flushing red.  
"I'm alright, but I know how I'd be even better…"  
Brendan knew that she'd accept. He could tell by the way she kept twirling her hair. Brendan didn't understand why other guys thought girls were so complicated. It was simple really: be nice to them.  
"How?" Eileen asked, twirling her hair with her index and middle finger.  
"If you'd go out with me sometime." He said without an ounce of nervousness.  
"I'd love that." She grinned, unable to conceal her joy.  
Just as Brendan was about to respond, he was stopped when he saw a boy slugging out of the French classroom.  
It was Steven.

He had a hoodie draped over his head, trackies as bottoms. Normally Brendan would think that that style looked somewhat scally-like, but it suited Steven. Brendan saw that there was a scowl on Steven's face. Probably only because the kid had been forced to attend class. He seemed like someone who would rather skive.

"Brendan?" Eileen's voice burst his thought bubble.  
"Yeah, yeah, sorry." Brendan quickly replied, swallowing quickly and trying to pull his eyes away from Steven.  
"Is it alright if I pick you up around seven?" He asked softly, trying to put all his focus on her.  
"That would be perfect," Eileen smiled, "Do you know where I live though?"  
Brendan smirked, "My sister's in your year, remember?"  
Eileen chuckled and nodded.

* * *

Brendan decided to take the same route home that he'd taken the day he ran into Steven. It wasn't because he wanted to see the kid, why would he? He just thought that maybe he could confront him about the Macbeth play. Yeah, that's why Brendan took his chances on bumping into Steven on the way home.

The weather was quite decent for Autumn; the sun was out. It was still quite cold, but those were the sacrifices you'd have to make for a little bit of sunshine. There was a stride in Brendan's step, despite the continuous throbbing in his knee. When he was sitting down it didn't hurt, but when he put actual pressure on it, his knee just seemed to give out. Luckily Brendan's stomach wasn't completely aching at that moment. He'd have to be a bit cautious seeing as his ribs were still slightly sore from what had happened before…

Just as Brendan was about to pass a crosswalk, someone in a hoodie turned the corner. _Steven_? Brendan was nervous. What would he say to him? How would he act? Should he apologise? No… He should be bold about the kid stealing Macbeth.

Brendan quickened his pace, ignoring the piercing in his knee. His heart was racing. When he finally reached Steven, he grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.  
"Wha?" Brendan managed to utter when he saw that it wasn't the boy with the blonde fringe, but a guy with a black buzz-cut.  
The guy looked at Brendan like he was some psycho.  
"Sorry, I thought you were someone else." Brendan quickly stuttered, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

He sighed and slowly continued on his path. Why did he feel disappointed? It was just some loser. Brendan didn't even want to be friends with this Steven kid, whoever he was.

* * *

The mirror in the bathroom was starting to clear up a few minutes after Brendan had gotten out of the shower. He had a towel wrapped around his waist while he shaved. Obviously Brendan didn't have a full face of hair, but he had some stubble. It made him feel more manly.

He took the shaving cream out of the cabinet and starting putting it on his jaw and cheeks.  
"Look who's getting all pretty in the bathroom." Seamus snarled as he opened the bathroom door.  
Brendan jumped, but tried not to show it. Now was not a good time for this. He had been having a good day. Things were actually going his way.  
"Brenda," Seamus started.  
"I have a date," Brendan quickly interrupted, already feeling fear building in him, "With the hottest girl in school."  
Seamus grinned, "Good job, son!" And gave him a pat on the back.  
"Treat her right - the way women have to be treated." Seamus said as he turned around and left Brendan shivering in the bathroom.  
Brendan let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding in.

Seamus would be proud of him for getting a date with Eileen. This was good. He was really proving to him that he was a real man. Brendan could get any girl he wanted. He could do anything he wanted to.

* * *

He was wearing a grey buttoned-down shirt paired with a nice blazer and some black trousers. Brendan was standing outside Eileen's house, finger on the doorbell.

He wasn't nervous and he was already able to predict exactly how the night would go. They'd leave to the diner, have a nice meal, Brendan listening whenever she blabbered on, she'd smile, and he'd smile back, then he'd be the perfect gentlemen and walk with her, maybe giving her his blazer, and then he'd finally drop her off at home.

Brendan was tired already thinking about it. Did that make him a bad person?

He ignored the questions that were banging around inside his mind and pressed the doorbell.

* * *

The evening went just as Brendan had predicted and Eileen and Brendan found themselves walking towards her home, his blazer warming her shoulders.

"I had a really nice night, Brendan." Eileen told him, her eyes sparkling.  
"Me too." Brendan replied softly.

To be honest, he was extremely nervous. He didn't know what she was expecting from him. Brendan was no stranger to relationships, but he often felt hesitant. He blamed it on Disney and movies and everything television taught him. There were supposed to be sparks. It seemed very corny, but when Brendan had his first kiss, he was hoping that he'd finally feel a spark, but he just felt nothing.

Brendan had decided this was because one of two things: either these emotions were really only for girls, and that was most logical, or he just hadn't found the right girl yet.

So there he was, standing on the front porch of Eileen's house, for the second time that night, counting down the moments until he had to kiss her, trying to prove that the latter of his two reasons was correct. She was smiling and looking up at him. If he didn't know better, he'd say now was the perfect moment. So he went for it. Brendan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Her lips were soft. _This could be nice_. Brendan thought. But he didn't feel much. He felt dull. Brendan realised he wasn't sure what he should do next. So he put his hands on her hips: it seemed like the right thing to do.

Then it was over. Eileen had gone inside and their date was officially over. Was he supposed to feel relieved that his hot date was over, because those were the only thoughts running through his mind. At least he'd be able to tell his friends that he kissed Eileen. He knew that Orin would be extremely jealous of him, seeing as he tried to get Eileen to go out with him numerous times.

* * *

It was completely dark outside and Brendan liked it this way. He didn't mind walking home in the dark. He felt oddly safe outside at night. The dark would protect him and the shadows were his friends. Gusts of wind blew and shook the trees along the sidewalk. It almost sounded as if the old pines were talking.

Brendan stopped. He was sure now that he could hear someone talking.

"Why are you out at this time of night?" The voice whispered.  
Brendan suddenly realised that it was aimed towards him.  
"Are you talking to me?" Brendan responded quickly, fear coursing through him.  
"Yeah, who else is here." The voice was clearer this time.  
"No one, I guess…" Brendan said calmly. He wasn't scared anymore.  
A hooded figure moved into the natural moonlight.  
"Oh God, it's you!" The voice was more accented now and Brendan knew exactly who it was.  
"Steven." Brendan whispered as he felt his blood rush to his cheeks.  
"How do you know my name?" Steven snapped angrily.  
"The check-in sheet." Brendan started to explain, beads of sweat forming on his palms.  
Steven looked at him inquisitively.  
"Detention." Brendan elaborated. Why was he feeling to damn nervous?  
"I already forgot about that, me."  
The breeze was getting stronger, and the only sounds were the rattling of branches in the wind.  
"And it's Ste, by the way." His voice said in a warmer tone.  
Brendan hadn't heard him talk this way before. He felt at ease.  
"I think Steven sounds better." Brendan responded straight away.  
"Whatever. I don't really care." Ste shrugged.  
The moonlight was shining on Ste's face. His eyes were shimmering.  
Brendan felt warm. He felt light and there was this inexplicable fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Maybe he had had something bad at the diner. That was probably it.  
"I have to go." Ste said suddenly, as if instantly remembering some task he had to do.  
Brendan nodded. He didn't know what to say and his mouth felt dry.  
Ste started to walk off into the opposite direction of Brendan's house.  
"Brendan!" He then exclaimed, shouting after Ste.  
Ste turned around, confused.  
"My name…" Brendan projected across the space between them, "It's Brendan."

Ste smiled and turned around. And before Brendan could process what had happened, Ste was gone into the darkness of the night.

The wind blew through Brendan's blazer and he felt cold again.


	5. Chapter 5

**So I'd like to say thank you to everyone who's been reading this so far. A special thanks to those who have reviewed and followed, etc, etc. I hope you enjoy this chapter (the longest one yet), and the next ones to come.**

* * *

To put it simply, Brendan felt uneasy. He felt uneasy about everything. It had taken him an abnormal amount of time to go home after his conversation with Steven, because he didn't get it. He didn't get why he was so confused and feeling so weird. It wasn't normal.

What had Steven been doing outside at night? Was he following Brendan? Did he want to see Brendan? Or was he just waiting outside for some prey to mug? Steven was the one who had taken Macbeth, so maybe he would be willing to mug someone for a spare buck or two.

But no matter what reasoning Brendan came up with, he still felt unsettled. Why was his stomach still turning?

_Eileen_. Brendan told himself. It was Eileen that was making him feel this way. He had just kissed her and he told himself that it was a spectacular moment that had just, for lack of a better word, flabbergasted him.

Maybe Eileen was the right girl for him. He wouldn't be feeling this way if it weren't for Eileen, would he? No, no he would not.

After he'd finally come to his conclusion, he felt his stomach stop rumbling and it was better. He was better. Brendan then confidently walked on home. He was unstoppable.

* * *

The lock clicked as Brendan twisted the key. He pressed down the brass handle and opened the door. It was fairly quiet, except for the static sounds of the television coming from the sitting room.

It sounded like a teen gossip show, so Brendan figured that it was Cheryl watching. He turned the corner and plopped down onto the couch next to his sister, who was slouching and eating from a bowl of popcorn.

"Salty?" Brendan asked.  
"Of course." Cheryl nodded, her eyes never leaving the television.  
He reached into the bowl and grabbed a good handful of popcorn. Brendan couldn't fathom why anyone would like sweet popcorn. It was just wrong.  
"How was your date with _Eileen_?" Cheryl asked, putting a flirty intonation on "Eileen".  
"It was fine." Brendan replied blandly. There wasn't much to say.  
"Did you kiss her?" She asked excitedly as she managed to finally draw her eyes away from the screen, grinning at Brendan.  
Brendan laughed, "I don't kiss and tell."  
"On the first date, you pervert!" Cheryl elbowed him in his stomach, causing Brendan to instantaneously flinch, his stomach and ribs still sore.  
"You alright?" She quickly asked, hoping that she hadn't caused him too much harm.  
"Just fell over earlier. Nothing for you to worry about." Brendan said with a soothing smile plastered on his face.  
He hoped she couldn't read his eyes, or else she'd see everything he was hiding.

_Eyes are the gateway to the soul._

* * *

It wasn't that Brendan liked it, but sometimes he felt like his eyes had a mind of their own. They would linger in situations he'd rather they wouldn't. He wondered if this happened to the other guys as well and they just wouldn't talk about it. There were always things you just wouldn't talk to your mates about, and maybe this was one of them.

But these _unspoken_ things would always leave Brendan more confused than ever.

No.

Brendan was just observant. That's what it was. He was observant of the other guys. He noticed the smaller things other people wouldn't. He noticed if a guy had been hitting the gym more often. Of course when everyone has to share a locker room after gym class, you see these things. It wasn't that Brendan blatantly chose to look, he just saw.

"Oi queer boy," Eoin teased Brendan, "If you look any more, your eyes will burn from the hotness!"  
Brendan felt himself burning red, but just laughed it off.  
"Wishful thinking, mate." He responded, swallowing quickly because his throat felt dry.

Eoin was buff, and in full honesty, Brendan was jealous. He wouldn't mind being as buff as Eoin. A thick torso, clearly defined abs, and broad shoulders.

But shrugged the thoughts off. These were other guys. Why the fuck was he thinking that way? He wasn't a poof. He wasn't a fairy. If he was, he wouldn't be able to be with Eileen. He wouldn't be able to go and kiss her whenever he felt like it. He wouldn't.

So the moment Brendan finished getting changed he went on a mission to find Eileen.

* * *

The pre-Christmas school party was coming up soon, and Brendan knew that Eileen would be jumping at the idea of going. He would never normally go to something like it; it was so cliched and boring, without a spec of alcohol in sight, but he'd do it. For Eileen.

He found her sitting in the hallway, gossiping with a few of her friends.  
"Hey Eileen, could I talk to you?" Brendan asked gently as he motioned for her to follow him.  
"Sure." She said as she got up and straightened her dress.

Brendan took her around the corner and entered an empty classroom.  
He grabbed her and kissed her. He was a man. And this was his prize.  
"Go to the school dance with me." Brendan whispered in-between breaths.  
"I would love to, Brendan!" Eileen's face lit up.  
"Fantastic!" He smiled as he pulled her in for another kiss.

As he stood in the classroom, with the most beautiful girl in the class, kissing her, he knew he'd won. All the guys would see that they were together and they would know that Brendan was a real man. No one could make jokes about him being a fairy or anything ridiculous like that.

How could he be queer if he could kiss Eileen the way he was right now?

* * *

As Brendan and Eileen were basking in the glory of their flourishing relationship later that week, they saw a familiar face.

"Steven." Brendan said as he saw Ste make his way through the courtyard to the humanities building.  
"You know him?" Eileen asked, her curiosity peaked.  
"Well not really _know_. I've run into him a few times." He shrugged, as he pulled his eyes away from the figure in the tracksuit.  
Eileen nodded, not really bothered to further their discussion about him.  
"What do you know about him?" Brendan then asked, unable to stop himself.  
"Not much really…" Eileen started saying, "He's quite a rebel, and tends to always do the wrong thing."  
"Does he have a girlfriend?" He asked, immediately unsure why he'd asked it.  
"Yeah he does actually. Her name is Rae. She's quite the skank, if you ask me." Eileen said openly, evidently not caring who overheard her.

Steven had a girlfriend? It hit Brendan in the gut. He didn't know why he cared. Could just be that the girl he was with was a skank. Everyone knew Rae and her reputation for sleeping around. Steven was the type of lad who could do better. He could do so much better.

"Brendan," Eileen started whispering, her mouth close to Brendan's ear, "I've been thinking."  
She was uncomfortably close.  
"Thinking about what?" Brendan asked while trying to discreetly free himself up.  
"Us."  
"Care to elaborate?" He responded, unsure of what she would say.

Was she going to break up with him? This wasn't the end. This couldn't be the end. If she would break up with him, he'd be the pathetic guy who got dumped by a girl two years below him. He couldn't have that reputation. And she was a nice girl and he would miss her.

"I think I'm ready for to have _sex_." She said, quieting her voice at the end.  
Brendan felt himself turn red, "Okay."  
"Okay, yes? Or okay, no?" Eileen asked, anxious about what Brendan would say.  
"Okay, sure." Brendan replied, giving her a nice smiling and a peck on the cheek.

Brendan was definitely not a virgin. He could do this without a problem. He just didn't get why people made such a big deal out of it. When he'd first had sex he felt almost disappointed. All his friends had always been going on and on about how amazing it would feel. It would be 'pure ecstasy' according to Eoin. But Brendan didn't get that. He thought it was nice. It just required endurance. It would be tiring, and Brendan didn't know if he felt like going through all that for a mere okay reward.

But since Eileen wanted to do it, and Brendan cared for Eileen, he would. She deserved to have sex with someone who cared for her. Not one of the other guys who would just degrade her, and brag about their conquests to their mates. She was a nice girl and she needed to be treated with respect.

So he would do it.

* * *

It felt as though a series of days had just flown by. His relationship with Eileen seemed to be progressing at 100 miles per second and he didn't know how it had all unravelled so quickly. He was tired of everything. He was tired of getting up in the morning and knowing he'd have to face the day ahead of him. He felt like nothing really gave him the motivation and will to get up. Even one of his only lights, Shakespeare, was still missing. And now that he was finally being given a weekend for rest time, his bubble had been burst.

"Come on Brendan, I said we're going to the pub." Seamus snarled angrily while standing at Brendan's bedroom door.  
Brendan was sitting on top of his bed reading a magazine.  
"But Da, I'm really tired." Brendan responded, not putting much force into his tone.  
He didn't want to downright decline his dad's offer, because he knew that there would be consequences if he did that, but he'd try and get his dad to understand.  
"I said, we're going." Seamus replied without hesitation, "Be at the car in five minutes."

Brendan hated going to the pub. Seamus always drank too much, made too many jokes at the expense of Brendan, and would just be venomous and nasty.

He had seen what it was like when all kinds of people would get pissed. There were the depressed drunks, who would take any situation and upset themselves, the happy drunks, those who would simply laugh no matter what was happening, the out-of-it drunks, who had no idea what was going on, and the last and scariest, the violent drunks.

On a good day, Seamus would drink too much and come home, hardly being able to walk, and would just pass out on the kitchen floor. In the morning before anyone else had the chance to get up, he would get up, shower, and pretend it had never happened. Brendan would be left alone.

But on those bad days, the ones Brendan feared most, Seamus would come home, still able to function, and would have a sick motivation. Brendan knew that he'd never be able to take Seamus on. Seamus was too reckless, too careless. He would just whisper and tell Brendan to keep it as their secret.

So Brendan hoped and prayed that this going out with his father would only lead to him passing out.

He met Seamus at the car, promptly five minutes after he had first been instructed. The smell of smoke was still hanging in the confined air in the car from when Seamus had been driving earlier. Brendan refrained from coughing, knowing that Seamus would make a dig at him if he did. _Can't even handle a smoke, can you? You're not a man._

When they arrived at the pub it was already dark out. It wasn't Seamus' pub, but the pub of one of his cronies. It wasn't very crowded inside, as the general demographic mainly consisted of middle-aged men.

"Seamus!" One of the men seated at the bar called out.  
Seamus ran over and they started talking to each other, cackling at each other's jokes.

He was an animal. When Brendan stared at him, all he saw was a disgusting boar.

"Aren't you going to get me drink, Brenda?" Seamus snapped at Brendan.  
"Sure Da." Brendan replied obediently, as he himself went over to the bar and ordered a beer for Seamus and a whiskey for himself. Once he got the drinks, he brought them over to his father as he caught ear of him talking about Brendan and Eileen.  
"My boy's been getting with one of the finest at his school. He's a real Brady."  
Brendan knew him being with Eileen would make his dad proud. He just didn't feel very good about it all.  
"Very different to his father then, eh?" One of the cronies joked.  
Seamus snorted in laughter and slapped the guy on the back.

Brendan hoped to God he would never be like his father.

"I'm going to go for a walk." Brendan told his dad quietly, not wanting the other men to hear what he was saying.  
"If you're not back before I leave, you're going on a long walk home." Seamus snarled, before turning back to the other men, not caring as Brendan vanished into the night.

* * *

It was getting colder and colder outside. Especially now that it was nighttime. So before Brendan took off on his walk of solitude, he just stood in the back alleyway of the pub. The few staff entered and exited through this way, and the heat vents blew overhead, so it was far warmer there than anywhere else outside.

The whiskey Brendan was still sipping on made him feel almost bubbly and light. Drowning your sorrows in alcohol truly was the way to go for him.

Just as he put his lips to the glass, the staff door swung open, causing Brendan to drop the glass and watch as it crashed onto the cold ground and shattered. He leaned down, trying to pick up some of the pieces.  
"You caused me to drop my whiskey!" Brendan shouted, his blood pumping, getting ready to fight whoever this asshole was.  
"Sorry mate." Someone said in a thick accent.  
_Was it...?_  
"Brendan, right?" He looked up in shock as his name was said to see that it was Steven.  
Brendan felt his stomach beginning to turn.  
"Yeah." Brendan managed to utter.  
He felt nervous. Was it normal to feel this nervous?  
"Your hand..." Ste started.  
Brendan looked down and saw that his palm had been sliced open and was bleeding.  
Ste grabbed Brendan's hand and tilted it up into the light to get a better look.

Brendan could see Ste's face in the light now. His fringe was almost covering his eyes, but he could still see, and he had his pink tongue between his red lips as he carefully examined Brendan's hand.

Brendan's heart was racing.  
He could feel Steven's breath against his hand.

"There's a first aid kit in the back of the pub," Ste said, "I'll go get it, just stay here."  
Brendan was left in the darkness of the alleyway. His blood pumping and his heartbeat erratic.

"_It's just the alcohol._" He whispered to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

"Give your hand here." Ste instructed calmly.  
Brendan followed the order and held out his hand. Ste gently took hold of it. Brendan felt electric currents running through his body from the contact.  
Ste took out a little bottle with a spray top.  
"This may sting a little." He warned.  
"I can take anything." Brendan boasted.  
Suddenly the liquid came out and stung the open wound. Brendan pulled his hand back, cradling it.  
"You're a wuss!" Ste teased, breaking out in his donkey-like laughter.  
"Am not!" Brendan retorted, unable to conceal his own grin.

With his good hand, Brendan gave Ste a playful shove, causing Ste to shove him right back.

Ste's eyes were glinting in the dim light of the alleyway. He looked happy.

"So what's your deal then, Brendan?" Ste asked once he'd finished wrapping up Brendan's cut, sitting back on one of the crates.  
"My deal?" Brendan raised his eyebrow.  
"Yeah, your deal. You know, everyone always talks about the hard-man Brendan Brady…" Ste explained.  
"Is that so?" Brendan laughed.  
Ste nodded in response, his fringe bouncing slightly.  
"Well…" Brendan started, "I have a sister, Cheryl, a mother, and a father, who is sitting inside that bar getting drunk. I am also currently dating Eileen, you might know her."  
"Yeah I know her. Right goodie-goodie, she is." Ste said pointedly.  
Brendan laughed and Ste smiled in response.  
"And what's the deal with Steven Hay?" Brendan said, turning the tables.  
"Like I've said before, no one calls me Steven, right?"  
"Wrong. I do." Brendan said matter-of-factly.  
Ste simply laughed and continued, "I'm two years below you, like to break the rules and get up to no good. That's about it."

Brendan nodded, observing Ste as he spoke. Ste had a very confident demeanor. He wasn't afraid of what other people thought. He said what was on his mind without even thinking twice about it.

"Rae?" Brendan then asked, curious about the matter.  
"Rae is a good friend at most. Sometimes we fool around, but that's not a very frequent thing."  
"Someone else then?" Brendan responded, still wanting to know more.  
"There used to be Amy, but we realised we didn't mash too well. I wasn't good to her. But she's amazing. She's my best friend." Ste explained carefully in a far more serious way than before.

Brendan was compelled. He felt as though he was in a trance-like state. He watched as Ste spoke, his eyes following Ste's quick-moving, red lips.

"And what about family?" Brendan then asked, not knowing why Ste hadn't said anything about it.  
"I have my mum and Terry, but that's it." Ste responded, getting much more quiet.  
"Terry?"  
"My mum's new man. He's something different…" Ste said.

The mood changed. Everything felt more serious now. Ste was staring at the wall, as if counting every single brick. Maybe Brendan had pushed him too far. Family was a touchy matter. He knew it.

"Aren't they all?" Brendan replied, his lips pressed tightly together.

That was the thing about talking to guys that Brendan never felt when talking to girls. They just _understood_. You didn't have to say anything explicitly for there to be that common understanding. Girls just didn't get that. They worked in a different way. Their clockwork was fine-tuned completely differently.

Ste nodded and stood up, "I've got to get home, me. Before Terry sees I took a long break between work and home."  
Brendan then got up as well, his knee panging slightly as he did.  
"Okay." Brendan replied, his voice low.

Ste stepped in closer to Brendan. It felt like time was standing still. Brendan couldn't breathe and all he could see was Steven. Steven's shimmering eyes, his slightly upturned nose, his rosy cheeks, and Ste's teeth, gently nibbling at his lips from nervousness or something.

Brendan's heart was racing and he didn't know what to do. What if he were to step in even closer? What if their skin were to touch? Would Ste's skin be warm and soft? What would it feel like if he were to press his lips against Ste's?

But before he could even begin to process the odd thoughts running through his mind, Ste turned and left the alleyway, yelling his final goodbye of the evening over his shoulder as he ran on home.

Brendan felt as though a blast of cold air hit him. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in. What had he been thinking?! Brendan wasn't queer. He wasn't a fucking fairy! Why would he ever want to even kiss another guy?! That's what freaks did. That's what people who deserved to be beaten up did.

And Brendan wasn't one of them.

He felt the rage building up inside of him the more he looked around and remembered his evening in the alleyway. Before he could stop himself, he began kicking all the crates with full-force and picking up and throwing everything around. _He wasn't a queer._ He wasn't a fucking queer!

And then Brendan was heaving and spewing his dinner into the corner of the alleyway. He felt sick to the core. He collapsed onto the ground and felt himself sobbing, his lungs hiccuping from the intense activity. Brendan's hands were now covered in blisters and probably splinters, and his knee was giving him hell once more. He pulled his legs close to his body, cradling himself in a ball.

That's why Brendan had gotten so much shit his entire life. Because he deserved it. He deserved it all. He was a disgusting freak, and he would burn in hell for even thinking the thoughts he had.

Then Brendan stopped. Maybe it was just the alcohol, like he had told himself earlier. Alcohol made people think weird things. It messed people up. No one can properly control themselves after having too much alcohol. He knew that and had seen it first-hand.

He wasn't a monster. It really was just the alcohol.

* * *

Brendan's eyes were still red from what had happened earlier. He couldn't bare to go back inside in that state and endure Seamus tormenting him and calling him a pansy. He was tired and he just wanted to be home.

So he took up his dad's 'offer' to simply walk home. Brendan knew he'd either way be much safer doing that than sitting in a car with a drunk man behind the wheel. He'd sat through that several times before, and they were some of the most nerve-wrecking experiences of his life. It was basically a death-trap. Brendan shuddered thinking of the most recent time that had happened, and the punishment he'd gotten afterwards for showing his fear.

There were times when Brendan loved walking through the night. But this was not one of them. He kept on remembering. He kept on replaying the entire night and going over what he had been thinking. What he might have done.

It scared Brendan and he wanted those thoughts gone from his mind. He wished he could just erase the entire night from his memory. But he couldn't. And with every step he took, each small detail would rebuild itself in his mind.

_Thud_. When Ste took hold of Brendan's hand. _Thud_. How he looked at Brendan, eyes wide and interested. _Thud_. His laugh. _Thud_. His smile. _Thud_. His lips. _Thud_.

Brendan stopped in his tracks. He had to get his mind off of those things. Eileen. He could think of Eileen and their future plans.

Eileen was pretty. Eileen was nice. Eileen was enjoyable to spend time with. They would have a good time at the school dance together. He would be the perfect gentleman and give her the experience she deserved. Then once the school party would come to an end, they would go to the after party at Parker O'Shaughnessy's house. Parker had a huge house with many spare bedrooms. So that's where Brendan and Eileen could spend the night together.

He would do everything in his power to make her feel good. Brendan would show her he was a real man.

* * *

Luckily for Brendan, Seamus had come home too tired to get angry at Brendan for walking home. But unfortunately for Brendan, his own demons kept him awake throughout the entire night. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Ste's.  
Blue, sparkling, open and willing.

He woke up several times in night, a thick layer of sweat covering his body. His dreams were replays of the night before. Except in the dreams he would get closer to doing what he told himself not to. But right before he could, he'd wake up. Brendan was relieved that his mind stopped him before anything happened, but there was a small part of him that was disappointed. It was almost as though he wanted to feel what it would be like to be that much closer to Ste.

It was just a nightmare though, Brendan told himself. Because that's what nightmares are. They create some of the worst possible scenarios and play them over in your subconscious. Of course Brendan wasn't queer. It was just a scary scenario to try and freak him out.

So he'd close his eyes and try to picture himself dancing with Eileen at the school party and hope that his next dream would be just that.

* * *

When he woke in the morning and tried to stand up, his knee buckled and he fell to the ground.

"Brendan?" Blanaid called as Brendan heard footsteps rushing to his bedroom.  
"In here." Brendan replied, raising his voice so she could hear through the wooden door.  
She swung the door open and saw Brendan on the floor.  
"I heard a loud noise. What happened?" She asked, her eyes darting.  
"My knee has been hurting and it just gave in." Brendan responded in a crackled voice, trying not to let himself start crying in front of Blanaid.  
"Oh you poor thing!" She said as she put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a hug.  
"I'm alright, really." He lied.  
Brendan could tell she wasn't buying it.  
"We're going to have to get you to a doctor to check it out." Blanaid told him calmly.

She then put her arm under his and helped pull him up. When Brendan was on his own two feet, she left the room and went down to the kitchen to finish preparing breakfast. Brendan put on a pair of jeans and went down as well.

Cheryl and Blanaid were already sitting at the table waiting for the men of the family. Brendan took his normal spot across from Cheryl and next to Seamus' empty chair. After a few minutes Seamus came into the kitchen, already dressed for the day. He took his seat and smiled at Blanaid and Cheryl, not really acknowledging Brendan.

"Seamus," Blanaid started, "Brendan needs to go see a doctor."  
"Why?" He asked, a frown forming on his face.  
"Because he hurt his knee and it's causing him pain." She explained sweetly, but to the point.  
"He needs to learn to deal with these things by himself." Seamus said, turning to observe Brendan.

Brendan looked down at his plate full of bacon and eggs. He hated it when Seamus looked at him.

"If Brendan's going to be a real man, he won't let trivial things like his knee hurting stop him from carrying on as normal." Seamus snarled.  
"I don't need to go to the doctor." Brendan said quickly. He didn't want his dad thinking he was some kind of pansy.

Blanaid nodded and accepted the decision that was made, and Seamus simply grunted in response.

"So Cheryl, how has school been recently?" Blanaid then asked in an attempt to change the topic and get rid of the tense atmosphere.  
"It's been alright…" Cheryl responded, picking at her scrambled eggs.  
"Oh! There is something!" She said, jumping as she remembered, "There's a guy in my year who came new at the beginning of the school year, but I never spoke to him before this week. He's from Manchester."  
Brendan's eyes widened and he felt the piece of bacon he had been chewing on go down the wrong pipe. He quickly coughed and dislodged it.  
"His name is Ste." Cheryl continued explaining, ignoring Brendan's coughing.  
Brendan felt himself burning red.  
"Are you okay, Brendan?" Blanaid asked.  
"Fine. Just got the bacon down the wrong pipe." Brendan explained trying to prevent the attention shifting onto him.  
"He's really nice and friendly, despite what some people say." Cheryl said, trying to get the attention back on her.

He was really nice. Brendan knew that first-hand. And he knew that obviously Cheryl and Steven were in the same year, he just didn't think that they'd ever interact. They shouldn't interact. He didn't want Ste to run off his mouth about anything.

"Stay away from him, Chez." Brendan warned.  
"Why should I do that?" Cheryl snapped, her voice getting louder.  
"He's a bad kid. Everyone in the entire school knows that!" Brendan shouted back.  
"Cheryl, maybe you should stay away from this kid." Seamus chimed in.  
Cheryl sat back and pouted.

Brendan just prayed she would listen to their father.

* * *

As much as weekends were Brendan's chance to relax, sometimes he hated them. Especially when he was being dragged along by Cheryl to go shopping. He wasn't a girl. He didn't need to go visit every single damn store just to 'browse'.

On the upside Brendan knew that maybe this would help get his mind off his current _situation_.

"Brendan, come look in this store!" Cheryl said as she pulled on her brother's arms, dragging him into a store filled with fancy soaps and 'scents'.  
"Oh this smells so good!" Cheryl squealed after picking up a pig-shaped soap bar.  
Brendan snorted in response, "A pig for a pig."  
"Hey!" Cheryl smacked his arm and frowned.  
Brendan laughed and smiled, showing her that he'd only been joking.

Across the store Brendan saw two men looking at some candles. They were standing very close. Almost too close for two friends. Brendan then saw the taller of two put his hand gently on the small of the other's back. The shorter one then turned and gave the taller one a peck on the cheek.

Brendan felt uneasy.

Men weren't supposed to do that. That was wrong. Men shouldn't be together in that way. It was sick. It was disgusting. There was nothing more vile than two poofs. How could they even do that in public?!

Brendan thought back to when he had last seen two men seem a little too close for comfort. He was with Seamus and some of the cronies. They had seen the two men sitting in a booth at a pub, and the moment Seamus and the cronies figured out what they were, they flipped.

Later that night when the two men were leaving the bar, Brendan saw as Seamus and some of his cronies cornered the guys in the alleyway and gave them some bruises that would last for at least a week.

Brendan remembered feeling like his throat had been constricted and wanting to help the men, but he couldn't. He remembered the water pricking at his eyes, and him using the back of his hand to clean his face and cover his reddened eyes.

But those men, the queers, they deserved it. They deserved it because of what they were. Because of what they got up to. Their disgusting habits.

"We're leaving." Brendan instructed Cheryl coldly as he angrily stormed out of the store.


	7. Chapter 7

About a week had passed since Brendan last spoke to Steven. He had seen him several times in the hallway, while quickly moving to a different class, but had tried to avoid him at all costs. Brendan had begun to wonder whether Ste was avoiding him as well. Did Ste not even see Brendan as a friend or anything?

But every time Brendan started to think that way, he told himself it was better like that. He didn't care if Ste wanted to see him or not. He wasn't caught up on some stupid little weirdo. The kid wasn't his friend and he made no difference to Brendan whatsoever.

So now that Brendan was walking out of his English class, murmuring his goodbye to the teacher as he left the room, he was surprised when he heard a voice call out his name.

"Brendan!" Ste shouted, a few feet away from him.

Brendan hadn't heard Ste say his name in what felt like ages and he loved hearing it. It was as if Ste couldn't say his name properly and would just resort to saying _Brendun_. It made him smile.

But this was no time for smiling and no time for talking to the kid. Brendan turned in the opposite direction and quickly made his way down the hallway, getting himself lost in a group of overly-enthusiastic teenagers.

He finally managed to get through to the place of his desire, where he sought sanctuary: the library. Brendan made his way to the Shakespeare plays and skimmed the shelf of books to see if Macbeth had been safely returned. It hadn't.

Brendan sighed, extremely frustrated at the matter. It had been weeks since the play went missing. Why hadn't the fucker who had taken it returned it?!

He gasped as the memory came flooding back to him. The conversation he'd overheard in the library. It was Steven who had the play. Brendan felt himself falling deeper and deeper into the mess. He wanted the play back, but he didn't want to have to see or talk to Steven again. He was bad news. He made Brendan think weird things.

So Brendan sat back against the shelf after pulling out Midsummer Night's Dream. He'd read it years before, and found it rather ridiculous. Shakespeare had the power to write the most intense tragedies, and on the other hand would write these ridiculous comedies that Brendan thought were just a waste of space. But he had no other option.

As he began to delve into it, he heard footsteps coming down the aisle he was in and stopping next to him.

"I saw you going into the library." Brendan looked up and saw Steven.  
It was weird seeing Ste in the library. It was like seeing a deer in a desert. They just didn't mash well.  
Brendan sighed and looked back down at the play. He wasn't going to let Steven and his worried facial expression distract him.  
"Are you ignoring me or something?" Ste asked, concern making his voice tremble slightly.  
For some reason Brendan found it disconcerting. He didn't like feeling as though he was upsetting Steven. But it had to be done.  
"I thought we were becoming friends…" Ste sighed, "Because of Friday night and all."

Brendan peaked upwards. He couldn't stop himself. Ste had a little pout on his face. His blue eyes wide and his teeth gently biting his lips.

"Where's Macbeth?" Brendan mumbled under his breath.  
"You what?" Ste asked, his face scrunching from confusion.  
"The play. Macbeth. You took it. Where is it?" Brendan replied coldly.

Ste turned red. He looked like he'd been found out.

"You did take it, didn't you?" Brendan snarled nastily.  
Ste leaned against the book shelf and sighed.  
"We had to read it in English and I had some problems," He explained quietly, "So I checked it out and brought it home. But Terry found it and thought he could make a buck off of it, so he sold it to some second-hand bookstore."

Ste's eyes were fixed on the ground where he was scuffing his shoes. He looked like he needed to be consoled. Brendan felt his stomach turn. He wanted to help him stop feeling sad. He wanted to hold him. To do everything in his power to make him feel better.

But that wasn't what men did. Brendan wasn't a pansy. He wasn't some fairy who would _hold_ Ste's hand until everything was better. He wasn't a fucking queer.

Then in one quick movement, Brendan got up and pushed Ste against the bookshelf, his blood boiling.  
"Yeah well you better find some way of getting a new one!" He ordered fiercely, his teeth gritted.  
Ste looked scared. He looked like he could cry.  
And Brendan felt so close to him. He felt Ste's pulse racing through his palm, which was pushing Ste's chest. Ste's lips were quivering and Brendan felt a surge inside him. Something trying to push him forward to press his lips against Ste's.

But he suppressed the feeling. _Brendan wasn't queer._

A throat was cleared, "Excuse me boys, is something wrong?" the librarian asked pointedly.  
Brendan quickly stepped back, a coldness filling his chest.  
"No…" Ste responded, his voice wavering, before turning and running out of the library.

The librarian made her way back to the desk and Brendan fell down to the floor.

_Fuck_.

* * *

Brendan had decided to skive off the rest of the day. It was something he occasionally did when he had a class like gym and didn't want to endure it. Some days he'd just hide away in the library, where absolutely no one would suspect that he'd go, but today he decided to go somewhere else. He wanted to make some money and he knew exactly how he'd do it.

The neighbourhood Brendan was in was a very sketchy one. Everyone knew it. But Brendan wasn't afraid of anything. And he had a switchblade in the bottom of his jacket pocket just in case he happened to run into some trouble.

Most of the buildings he walked by were run down. He passed several old theatres that had long been out of use. Alongside the buildings were some blankets that homeless people used at night. Brendan wondered how they didn't freeze to death considering the temperatures at night. He shrugged and carried on. He didn't care about those people.

When Brendan finally made his way to the big red house he stopped in front of the gate.  
This was the place.

He pushed the creaky, bronze gate open and walked through the weed covered grass to the front door. Once there he knocked on the door three times in a row, with a pause of three seconds in-between each knock. _The code._

A tall, buff, bald man opened the door and let Brendan in.

"I'm here for some business." Brendan explained, standing tall and pressing his chest out. He didn't want them to think he was just some kid.  
"The boss will see you in a minute." The bald man responded as he went and sat down on one of the dusty couches in the room.

After about five minutes the door attached to the room swung open and an overweight man in a suit called Brendan in.

"You've done jobs for us before, haven't you?" The guy asked, his voice raspy from smoking.  
"Yes." Brendan responded confidently. This man had to see he was professional.  
"Okay." He responded as he went over to the desk and pulled open a drawer.  
He took a bag with pills out and held it up.  
"Here." He said as he threw it across the room to Brendan, who caught it swiftly.  
"Good reactions, boy." The man grinned, his white teeth flashing.

Brendan slipped the bag of pills into his pocket next to the switchblade. He smiled. He knew he'd do a good job. He was a good businessman.

* * *

The moment school ended, Brendan started heading back home. He couldn't have his parents knowing he hadn't gone to his classes, and coming home at the usual time would be the best way of preventing them finding out. As he passed the school he spotted Eileen and her group of friends making their way to the front gate. He quickly jumped behind a car. He didn't have the effort in him to talk to her. He waited until they headed off in a different direction before getting up and heading on home.

He had been out on his little 'adventure' for several hours and had a warm stomach full of food after stopping by the chip shop on his way back to school. Unfortunately it was becoming excruciatingly cold outside, and Brendan did only have his jacket. He blew on his hands and wiped his noise after sniffing a few times, then buried them deep into his jacket pockets, feeling the packet of pills against his fingertips.

Brendan already knew which kids he could sell the stuff to. There was a group of guys in the year below him who were always trying to be the coolest kids in school. Those insecure little bastards were the ones most easily manipulated. They were gagging for ways to make them 'cooler', and Brendan would have the answer.

In the coming weeks, there'd be plenty of opportunities for Brendan to sell the stuff to them. He knew he'd be able to get them to buy during their breaks outside the school building, but his jackpot opportunity would be at the school party.

There would already be a few kids asking Brendan to sneak some flasks with booze in. For a price, that is.

He'd just have to make sure that Eileen didn't catch a drift of what he was doing. She was like a little, delicate flower that had to be protected and couldn't know what was happening. It's a man's world: those dirty, illegal _games_.

* * *

As Brendan approached his house, he saw Cheryl walking about four houses in front of him with someone else. From behind it looked like it was a guy. That wasn't very normal for Cheryl to be hanging around with guys.

It wasn't that she wasn't charming, because Brendan knew his adorable sister was, she was just the type of girl who had more female friends than male. That's just the type of person she was. So even when most girls would be spiteful bitches to her, she'd pull a fit for a few weeks and then they'd be having their slumber parties again in no time.  
Brendan stopped his quickened pace, while giving his knee a break and giving time for his sister to get further ahead of him. He wasn't _spying_, he was just curious.

After Cheryl and the mysterious guy got to their house, Brendan watched as they turned to open the gate. Just as the guy turned, Brendan felt himself stop in shock. He felt a tug in his chest.

It was Steven.

He continued to watch as Ste said something to her, and they both began laughing. Brendan couldn't hear from that far, but he could imagine Ste's donkey-laughter. It was still echoing in his mind. He had a grin on from ear to ear. Brendan thought he looked a little bit like a monkey. But an endearing monkey. Brendan felt himself beginning to smile.

Suddenly Ste gave Cheryl a hug, turned back and started walking in Brendan's direction. Brendan quickly jumped behind one of the bushes in a neighbour's garden. Ste shouldn't see him.

Brendan felt his heartbeat increase the closer Ste got. He prayed Ste wouldn't be able to spot him. Then the footsteps got louder and Ste passed Brendan, a small gust of wind blowing as he walked by. It smelled like Steven. Or at least the scent Brendan remembered from earlier that day and from the Friday night. It wasn't a synthetic smell or some thick aftershave smell, it was just real. There was a muskiness to it that made Brendan's cheeks burn and stomach twist.

He inhaled deeply and the smell soon vanished. Brendan then moved out of his hiding place and glanced down the street to make sure Ste was out of sight. Brendan felt somewhat disappointed when he saw that Steven was completely gone. It wasn't that he _wanted_ to see him, he just would've wanted to say something about earlier. Yeah… That was it.

Brendan then turned around and made his way home down the concrete sidewalk.

* * *

It was already 11:30pm and Brendan was sure he had successfully gotten away with skipping his classes. Most of the lights in the house were already off and all was quiet, except for the scraping of his pencil against his maths homework.

Calculus. Brendan fucking hated calculus. It was a pain, and Brendan only found himself complaining throughout the entire unit. It wasn't that he didn't get the stuff, he did, he just found it tiring to have to work out every little detail. He stopped writing and bit down on the rubber tip at the end of the pencil. Nasty habit.

"So you think you can just not go to school and get away with it?" Brendan jumped and turned around, his body switching to defense mode.

Seamus stood at the door, his eyes slightly glazed over. He'd been drinking. Brendan could smell it.

"You think that I provide you with decent living just so you can go and throw it all away by skipping school?" Seamus snarled.  
"No Da…" Brendan responded, his voice quivering.  
"Then why'd you do it, eh? Did you go sneak off with your little boyfriend?" He asked, spitting at the last word.  
"You're a disgusting little freak!" Seamus growled.  
"Please, Da. I didn't. I'm sorry…" Brendan replied frantically.  
"You deserve to be punished for doing that. And for thinking you could get away with it!"

Seamus pulled Brendan up from the chair and threw him against the wall.  
"_Please…_" Brendan begged, tears beginning to drip down his cheeks.

Seamus grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled him back and threw him against the wall again. Brendan felt as the back of his head smacked against the wall. He started sliding down the wall and ended up curled on the floor. Seamus pulled Brendan's arms away from his body, freeing up his stomach, and he kicked.

Brendan closed his eyes and tried to picture anything to help him get by. He thought of being with his friends, just screwing around and forgetting the world, he thought of spending time with Cheryl, laughing at her ridiculous jokes, he thought of the blonde-haired boy, the one who seemed to take his mind of everything. The one who made him forget. The one who would laugh and make Brendan laugh just by doing that.

He replayed Friday night when the boy had grabbed his hand and examined it, his breath strong against Brendan's skin. He replayed pushing him up against the wall, their bodies pressed closely together.

But it was just that. Thinking that way. That's why Brendan was here. That's why he deserved it. Because he was disgusting. His father was right. He was a fucking pansy and he deserved all the shit he got.

Brendan squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and began reciting the table derivatives.

Because tonight Seamus was merciless.


	8. Chapter 8

"Give us a spin, Brendan!" Cheryl squealed from the waiting area of the dressing rooms.  
"I'm not a girl." Brendan grunted back, still hidden by the curtain.  
"Well show us at least!" Blanaid cheered from the bench with Cheryl.

Brendan sighed and looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting the lapels. He looked good. He knew he did. He knew just how to look classy in a suit. With the right cut he looked like a star.

He lifted open the curtain and walked out before moving his arms as if asking what they thought.  
"Oh you look adorable!" Blanaid said, a smile planted on her face.  
Brendan felt his cheeks turn red. This was embarrassing.  
"Look at my brother, all fancy in a suit." Cheryl teased.  
"You're just jealous!" Brendan snapped back, frustrated that he was being teased for looking good.  
"I already found my perfect dress." Cheryl responded, unfazed by Brendan's remark.

She was right. She really had found the perfect dress for her. Brendan only hoped no guys would try to harass her, or they'd be picking their teeth out of the ground, and Brendan didn't want to waste any time at the dance fighting horny teenage boys, who couldn't seem to keep their dick in their pants.

"Okay, go get changed. I'll go to the till and pay for it." Blanaid told Brendan.  
He wasn't going to argue.

Brendan moved back into the dressing room and took another look at himself. His suit was black and his tie and suspenders were red. It was the perfect mix of dark and mysterious. Eileen would think he looked good. And all the girls would be jealous of her that she was the one who got to go out with the Brendan Brady.

"Brendan!" Cheryl yelled from outside.  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm almost done!" Brendan shouted back, quickly taking off the suit.

The party should be good.

* * *

The day started early on. It was 11:47am to be precise when the doorbell went off. Cheryl's friends. It had to be.

For some reason Brendan found that girls always liked to get together in a group and get ready that way. They could do the exact same thing if they were by themselves, but for whatever reason, that's what they did.

Brendan was sitting in his room, reading a comic book on his bed, when his peace was disrupted. He heard as Cheryl left her room, her footsteps loud on the wood floor. She trampled down the stairs and opened the door. Brendan heard her shout her hellos chirpily to all her friends. He heard as they moved inside the house and the door was shut behind them.

Three. There must've been at least three girls there, if Brendan could hear correctly. It'd be Lynsey, Marge, and Gina. It had to be. Those were the only girls Cheryl would waste her time on. Lynsey was the only one of them Brendan actually liked. She was like a sister to him.

He knew that some of the girls had gotten dates to the dance. He'd heard from Eoin that he was planning on taking Lynsey, Daniel would be taking Marge and some random from Cheryl's year would be taking Gina. Brendan still wasn't sure who would be taking Cheryl.

That was weird.

Normally she would've long told him. _I have a date._ She'd say. Bragging. _Doesn't count if it's an eight year old._ Brendan would tease back. Cheryl would just stick out her tongue and carry on with her joyful skipping.

But she hadn't. She hadn't told him anything.

Maybe no one had asked her. Maybe she really didn't have a date and was going to be left alone. Might be better that way. That's what Brendan figured at least.

"Want to come paint our nails for us?" Cheryl asked, her head suddenly popping into his doorway.  
"Do I look like I want to?" Brendan responded sarcastically.  
Cheryl laughed and left.

Brendan smiled and looked back down at his comic. She was crazy sometimes.

* * *

Luckily for Brendan, Blanaid was letting him take her car. He was relieved that Blanaid actually had some form of decent taste when it came to choosing cars. Unfortunately Cheryl hadn't really inherited that trait from her. Whenever they saw a colourful, or flower covered car, Cheryl's face would light up as Brendan would come close to puking in repulsion from the car.

Unfortunately for Brendan, he was now the chauffeur of the group of four girls. They had intended to meet their dates at the dance, so Brendan at least wouldn't have to squeeze in five or six other people.

Sitting behind the wheel, Brendan felt powerful. There wasn't much like the ability to take the wheel and just be in control. If he wanted to go faster, he'd press down on the pedal and make the vehicle race, and if he wanted to go slower, he'd press much lighter on the gas pedal, and if he wanted to stop, he'd just step on the break. It was that easy for him. He was in control.

"Turn on the radio!" One of the girls in the back instructed.

Brendan obliged. He could feel the pills pressing against his upper thigh. All he pockets had been filled with gear for the night. He had the pills for selling and had slipped some condoms in for the evening with Eileen. And in his jacket pocket he had a flask of whiskey. Just in case things got a little _dry_.

But he wasn't sure if he'd be feeling up for it with Eileen. He just felt out of it.

"So who is your date, Cheryl?" Brendan asked as he briefly looked over to Cheryl, who was sitting in the passenger's seat next to him.  
"My lips are sealed." Cheryl replied quietly.  
"You're not really going to keep it from me, are you?!" Brendan asked, shocked, "Oh God, is it some meathead?"  
"No, it's not." She responded, not elaborating.  
"It's Ste!" Gina shouted from the back of the car.

_Ste_? As in… _Steven Hay_? Brendan felt his stomach drop. This wasn't good. This was a mess.

"We're not going as lovey-dovey dates," Cheryl started explaining, "We're going as friends; he's like a brother to me."  
"I'm your brother!" Brendan responded angrily, "Did you not listen to anything I said about him? He's bad news!"  
"He's really nice." Lynsey chimed in.

Brendan decided to let it drop. He still didn't like the idea of Ste being with his sister. They were all kinds of wrong for each other. Cheryl needed someone else. And Steven… He needed someone strong. Someone who would stand up for him. Someone who would help him.

He shook his head of the thoughts. _Eileen_. It was her night. It was _their_ night.

* * *

The music was too loud. It felt too hot and too crowded. Eileen was too clingy and kept on pulling Brendan to dance. He was tired. And the whiskey couldn't even seem to take the edge off.

He decided to go and find the kids to sell the pills to. They'd be dying to get the stuff and make their boring evenings slightly more interesting. He found them surrounding the punch bowl. They'd probably spiked it already.

Brendan whispered in one of their ears, and the kid immediately pulled out a bill of 20, handing it over to Brendan, who gave him a pill in exchange. _Quality stuff_. Brendan told them.

Aside from the annoying music, Brendan had managed to be quite successful on the business front. He had a good 200 burning in his front left pocket. Next to the condoms.

_Eileen. Fuck._

He started to panic as he realised he'd left his date completely alone. When he finally found her, she simply smiled and pulled him in to dance some more. The upbeat song soon turned into a slow dance, and Brendan felt himself move into the right position. Some cheesy romance ballad was loudly blasting through the speakers. But the words, they felt empty to Brendan. He didn't feel it. The way the singers described it. He couldn't even begin to properly fathom it.

Eileen looked pretty that night. She had a red dress on that perfectly matched his black and red ensemble. They were the ideal couple.

He moved and swayed with her to the beat, trying to close his eyes, but feeling too uncomfortable, and opening them again. He glanced around the room, Eileen's head pressed to his shoulder.

He saw Cheryl sitting at one of the tables fooling around with someone, making paper hats. Idiots. He thought. Brendan watched as Cheryl carefully did up a paper hat and put it on the person sitting next to her. The person then turned around as they laughed, causing the paper hat to fall to the ground. It was Steven.

Why was Brendan still surprised? Why did he feel as though the wind had been blown out of him every time he saw Steven? He knew Steven would be there. He even knew that Ste was Cheryl's date. He just couldn't help but feel… surprised.

They were both just so happy and laughing together. Brendan felt bitter. Maybe they could be happy together. He didn't care.

But then Brendan stopped. If they were actually a couple they'd be dancing together, wouldn't they? The way they looked at each other seemed almost more platonic. Really like brother and sister. Cheryl was probably right.

But maybe he was just over-analysing things. It was the whiskey. He knew from past experience that it was the whiskey that made him think in weird ways. Made him think weird things.

The song ended and Brendan moved away, pulling his flask out of his pocket and sneaking another sip.

He just needed the night to be over.

* * *

The school dance had ended at 10:30pm, but the real party was only starting at 11:00pm at Parker O'Shaughnessy's house.

Brendan had been the driver of only himself and Eileen. Cheryl and her little bezzies had managed to catch a lift with someone else. He knew that he'd had a little to drink, but he could still hold himself. He'd done it before, and tonight he'd do it again.

As Brendan drove through the night, Eileen carried on with her usual uplifting chatter. She never seemed to notice much. She just continued. Did she never feel as though something was off? Was she so wrapped up in her own world? Could she not even smell the whiskey on Brendan?

But Brendan didn't really care. They'd get to the house, find a room, and do whatever they had to do. That was the way this would work.

When they got to the house, it was more crowded than expected. They could hardly move around the room.  
"I'll get us a drink." Brendan shouted into Eileen's ear, unsure if she'd even be able to hear over the loud music.

Brendan's flask was nearly empty. Luckily, Parker's house basically had a bottomless supply of booze. They could find pretty much whatever they needed somewhere in that house. It was notoriously known as the 'party mansion'.

The kitchen was full of rowdy teenage boys, plowing through the fridge for snacks. Most likely high. Were getting the _munchies_. Brendan didn't care for them. Or for those drugs. They were merely a little puff to get you slightly glazed over. You couldn't accomplish much more with them than with going out for a jog.

But alcohol was more his thing. Brendan never used to find whiskey that appealing, but after learning that it really was a man's drink, he had acquired the right taste. It was his drink now. And he wasn't a lightweight. Not anymore.

He pushed past the kids and opened the cabinets, seeing that there really wasn't much in there for him. He sighed and looked around, unsure of what to do. Suddenly it hit him. He was in a house surrounded by people who wanted to party. People who really wanted to party.

So Brendan took a step back and pulled one of the kids away from his group, and whispered, "Want something to make the party even better?"  
The kid turned to him, excitement parading his face. He nodded, and in no time handed the money over. 30 now. Brendan had upped his price.

He was going to fully seize this opportunity and so he began moving around the house, trying to sell to anyone who still had money left in their pockets. He sold to the boys trying to impress girls, he sold to the girls who wanted to try and forget their insecurities, he sold to the pariahs who just wanted to feel as though they were a part of everything else.

Brendan sold to all kinds of people. They all bought the stuff because they wanted to somehow forget their problems. They thought the pills could make things better. But Brendan wasn't a care-taker. He wasn't someone who was trying to make everything better for everyone else. He didn't care if they felt better from it and he didn't care if they would take too much and feel like shit. He didn't. Because they were the ones silly enough to buy the stuff in the first place.

After about half an hour of walking around, a girl approached him. Rae. It was Rae.  
"I heard you're selling some stuff." She had said, her words slurred.  
Brendan nodded a began to get some for her, reaching into his pocket before somebody grabbed his arm.  
"What do you think you're doing?!" It was Ste. He was shouting.  
"Don't touch me!" Brendan shoved his arm off.  
"Brendan!" Ste responded, trying to somehow get through to Brendan.

Brendan turned around and starting heading off to somewhere else in the house. Maybe he'd go find Eileen. She had been waiting for him for a while now. He just needed to get away from Steven.

"Stop running from me!" Ste shouted, his voice trailing not far behind Brendan, who was rapidly dodging in-between other teenagers.

He tried to ignore Steven's voice. Tried to phase out his accent. Tried to pretend the kid wasn't there. Tried to erase him from his mind.

But he wouldn't leave. He just kept following Brendan wherever he went.

"Leave me alone!" Brendan shouted, becoming more frantic and agitated.  
He had never really felt like this before. He was overcome with a feeling of wanting to be alone, but at the same time not wanting Steven to leave.

But Steven wasn't giving up that easily. Every turn in the house, he reached out and pulled for Brendan's arm. They had gotten to a spot in the house that was emptier now, and Brendan was at a breaking point. Before he could stop himself he grabbed Ste's arm and pushed him into a small, walk-in closet of some sort.

He had Ste up against the wall, his hands in fists, clenched around Ste's shirt.

Brendan felt so angry. He was so full of energy and rage. Why was Steven still there?! Why wouldn't he just leave him alone?! Brendan was fine in his own little world of damaging. He didn't need anyone else. He didn't want anyone else.

"Why do you keep following me?!" Brendan shouted, his teeth gritted, their bodies pressed closely together.

Ste's eyes were wide. It was strange, Brendan thought, Ste didn't look scared. He looked open and curious, but not scared.

Ste cleared his throat, and Brendan felt his Adam's Apple bob against the back of his knuckles. Steven's skin was warm.

"Because…" Ste started, drifting off mid-thought and not finishing his sentence.  
"Because what?!" Brendan yelled, his blood boiling..

The room was shaking. Or maybe it was just Brendan. Brendan's heart was racing. It was hot. His palms were sweating and his neck felt hot. Were they in some sort of heater?

Ste looked up into Brendan's eyes. Most of the lights in the room were still off, and Brendan could only make out fine features. The blue of Ste's eyes still managed to glisten and contrast against the white sclera.

"Because…" Ste then picked up, "Because you're not a bad guy, Brendan."

Brendan didn't know what to think. He was a bad guy. He didn't care for others. He hurt, he damaged, he scarred. He sold drugs to people and wouldn't care if they took too much. They were just casualties in the hard-knock world they lived in.

Ste seemed so close. Brendan didn't know what to say or how to feel at that moment.

It felt as though everything had stopped. As though time had stopped.

The music outside had seemed to fade away and all he could hear was the erratic beating of his heart.

Brendan moved in, unsure of what he was about to do. He felt Ste's breath against his face. Warm. He had been panting from chasing Brendan around the house.

Brendan felt as his eyes seemed to wander. As though they had a mind of their own, they began to trace the features on Ste's face. They moved from Steven's blues eyes, to his long eyelashes. From his long eyelashes to his cat-like eyebrows. From his eyebrows, to his slightly upturned nose. From his nose to his cheekbones. And from his cheekbones down to his lips. His red lips that glinted in the dim-light.

He watched as Ste's tongue poked in and out, just moving around inside his mouth.

Soft.

His lips looked soft.

And before Brendan could stop himself he found himself pressing his lips against Ste's.

_Soft_.

Ste's lips _were_ soft.

The heat seemed to rush everywhere in Brendan's body. His cheeks felt flush, his chest felt as though it was burning. His whole body seemed to burn. He was on fire.

He felt weak in his arms and he realised he was no longer holding onto Ste's shirt.

He realised his lips had begun to move without command. And Ste was responding. Ste was moving his soft lips against Brendan's.

The moment was surreal. Was this really happening? Brendan felt light and felt as though he was floating.

Just as the moment seemed to go even deeper and Brendan felt a warm tongue moving against his, he heard a banging against the door.

Brendan jumped back and looked at Ste, whose cheeks were rosy. Ste quickly put his fingers to his lips as though he was also wondering if that had actually just happened.

"My God…" Brendan tried to say, unsure of whether he had actually managed to say it or if he'd just imagined it.

The door then swung open and the room was flooded with light.

Before Brendan left anything to chance, he ran out of the room, the feel of Ste's lips still burning against his.

He pushed past people and this time it felt different. Last time he was running, he was being followed by Steven. But he had to get away. What had just happened was the alcohol. He would've never done it had he not had a drink. He would've never.

Brendan spotted Eileen sitting on the couch. He swiftly moved over to her, sweat still dripping from his skin.

"I've been looking for you for a while." He told her smoothly, recovering his breath.  
Eileen smiled and looked up at him, as if completely forgiving him for having spent at least an hour away from her.  
"Let's go find somewhere private to talk." Brendan said, holding out a hand for her.

She eagerly took hold of his hand and he led her upstairs to the bedrooms.

Tonight he'd show her that he was a man.

_Because he wasn't gay._


	9. Chapter 9

There was something powerful about the mind. It made you see things. It made you think things. It wasn't something you could control. That's what Brendan knew.

He kept remembering the darkness in the closet. The closeness. The heat. The fire that was burning inside of him.

Steven.

He kept remembering Steven and the way their lips ended up, pressing delicately against each other. There was a part in him that seemed like it was stuck inside a cage. It kept on hammering inside him. It kept pounding and yelling for him to do something. For him to get away from Eileen, for him to just do something else.

But Brendan ignored the thing inside him. It had to stay locked away. He took the key and threw it away.

He had slept with Eileen that night. He had made the decision that he had to be with her. She was the right person for him. And he didn't have a problem sleeping with her. Because he was a man and that's what men do. He just closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in her. He told himself that it wasn't because his body was still burning from before. It wasn't because whenever he closed his eyes he saw Steven's face. It wasn't.

Eileen had been open and willing. She did everything a girl should do. More. Probably even more. Brendan felt almost awkward for her. She just seemed so desperate and wanting. It wasn't normal, was it?

After they'd done it once, Eileen still seemed somehow energised enough to go for a second round, but Brendan simply closed his eyes and pretended that he'd drifted off into a slumber. When Brendan was sure she was asleep, he finally got up out of the bed and put his boxers on. He walked over to the window and looked out at the dark street and front garden. It was trashed with empty cups and just rubbish in general.

Brendan felt uncomfortable. He didn't want to go back and lie next to Eileen. Cuddling was for girls. He'd reached an age where he finally understood why men didn't enjoy cuddling. It was just too much body contact and it seemed pointless. Unnecessary.

The room was partially lit from the natural moonlight looming in from the window. Brendan could spot his clothes among the mess on the floor. He tip-toed over and picked up his slacks, shirt, tie, suspenders and blazer. He attempted to remain quiet while slipping everything on.

Once he was fully dressed, Brendan left the room without looking back.

He needed to get out of there.

* * *

Seamus and Blanaid had made plans to call it an early night. That's how Brendan knew it didn't really matter how late he got home. And he knew that Cheryl had caught a ride from one of her friends, so she was most likely already home.

The house was completely quiet when Brendan pushed the front door open and crept inside. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He had sobered up quite a lot, but there was still a pounding in his head that didn't quite seem to stop. Dehydration. That's probably what it was.

Once he finished his glass of water, he put it in the sink softly, trying not to make any loud noises and wake the people sleeping peacefully in the house. Brendan then made his way to his bedroom, slowly peeling off his clothes. They reeked of whiskey and beer.

He then laid down in his bed, staring at the white ceiling.

The night had been far too crazy and out of hand. He'd managed to get a load of money off of losers, had finally had sex with Eileen, and… There was that thing with Steven. But Brendan knew he wasn't queer. It was probably just the kid. He had been playing Brendan all along, trying to be his friend, just so he could try and get his tongue down Brendan's throat. He was disgusting. Just a filthy little queer.

Brendan then realised that he was sweating and shaking slightly. He felt with his hand and realised that he was hard. _Fuck_.

It was probably just because of his night with Eileen. It was that.

He wasn't going to do anything about it. He wasn't.

So Brendan turned on his side and squeezed his eyes shut, praying that he'd be able to catch a few hours of sleep still.

Because he knew that if he were to go there, there'd be a good chance it wouldn't be Eileen he'd be seeing when he'd close his eyes.

* * *

Brendan was woken up by a loud Cheryl, running and jumping on his bed.

"Wake up!" Cheryl shouted repeatedly, bouncing his entire mattress.  
"Leave me alone…" Brendan grumbled, flipped over and taking his pillow as a cover for his ears.  
"Get up!" She yelled.  
Brendan ignored her.  
"Come on!" She continued.

She was fucking persistent.

"Fine!" Brendan sighed and sat up in bed.  
"Good." Cheryl smirked, proud of her accomplishment, "Ma and Da are out for the day, so it's just you and me. We need to make some breakfast."

Brendan groaned that he'd have to cook. He was always shit in the kitchen. But he was also slightly relieved that he wouldn't have to face Seamus.

He wasn't sure he'd be able to look him in the eyes right now.

The water in the shower was warm and Brendan felt as though he could finally cleanse himself of the night and everything that had happened. He was just dirty and he needed to be cleaned. A good soap bar and shampoo would help make things clear again.

Once he'd finished showering, he put on some jeans and a white t-shirt. He was staying casual for the day. He made his way downstairs and saw Cheryl standing in the kitchen, ingredients scattered on the counter-top.

"Don't tell me you don't even know how to make scrambled eggs!" Brendan called out.  
"Shut up." Cheryl responded angrily, frustratedly flicking through the pages in one of Blanaid's cookbooks.  
"I know how to make scrambled eggs, but I can't make anything fancier." Brendan suggested.  
"Okay, but I'm gonna go put on some-" Just as Cheryl was about to finish her sentence, she was interrupted by the doorbell.

It was probably Eileen.

"I'll get it." Brendan said, already mentally preparing his excuse for being too busy to spend time with her.  
He made his way over to the door and swung it open.

His stomach flipped when he realised it wasn't Eileen, but instead it was Steven standing on his doorstep.  
"What are you doing here?!" Brendan hissed, stepping further outside to try and prevent Ste from entering.  
"Oh you're here!" Cheryl exclaimed as she approached the door.

Brendan turned around, "You invited him?"  
"Yeah, I figured it'd be alright." Cheryl explained with a chirp in her voice.  
"Alright." Brendan responded, his throat suddenly feeling extremely dry.

Ste pushed past Brendan, his body pressing closely against Brendan's as he did. Brendan cleared his throat and hoped that his cheeks weren't red.

He was left alone in the doorway, unsure of whether he could get his legs to function. Brendan finally managed to close the door and move from his spot and follow the others to the kitchen, hoping he'd get a chance to tell Ste to keep his mouth shut about what had happened.

"So what you making?" Brendan heard Ste ask, his face scrunching slightly.  
"Probably some toast." Cheryl mumbled, not feeling up to explaining that she didn't know how to make anything better.  
Ste's suddenly lit up, "If you have some eggs, milk, flour and some other stuff I can make us pancakes!"  
Brendan felt himself smiling. He didn't mind having pancakes.  
"We ran out of flour, so I'll get it from the garage." Cheryl exclaimed, excited at the notion of having pancakes.  
Brendan suddenly realised that would mean that he would be alone with Steven.  
"I'll get it!" He quickly suggested.  
"No, it's alright, Brendan." Cheryl replied sweetly.

Brendan sighed in frustration and watched as his sister left the kitchen. His eyes were then drawn to the boy cracking some eggs open at the counter, his back towards Brendan. How did he manage to look so…professional while cracking eggs?

It hit Brendan then. This was his chance. It was his chance to clarify any _misunderstandings_ about the night before.

He swiftly moved over to the counter until he was standing next to Ste.  
"Last night," He started, clearing his throat, "That was nothing."  
Ste turned and looked at him, his eyes wide and blue.  
Brendan's mouth felt dry again. His pulse was picking up and his palms were sweating.  
"I…" Ste started, hesitating as he held his bottom lip between his teeth, then continuing, "I kind of liked it."  
For some reason it felt like Brendan's eyes managed to linger down and he was looking at Ste's lips again, watching as his lip flipped back when Ste's teeth released it.  
"I'm not queer." Brendan suddenly said.  
He had to make a point. He wasn't gay.  
"Neither am I," Ste said, "I'm been with Amy, Rae and lots of girls, me."

But it seemed Steven wasn't listening. Or at least he wasn't _hearing_ what Brendan was saying.

"I had too much to drink yesterday. That's it." Brendan said, trying to draw the line.  
"But it-"  
"Catch!" Cheryl shouted, suddenly throwing a packet of flour across the kitchen, causing Brendan to jump back and grab hold of the flying bag.  
He put it down on the counter.  
"I'll be in my room." He said and walked off, resisting the urge to turn back and look one more time.

* * *

Brendan was sitting at his desk and trying to get some schoolwork done. He had to write some essay about the Renaissance. It wasn't that he didn't know the stuff, as always he seemed to be far more advanced in the subject than most people his age, but he just wasn't able to put anything to paper.

It was as though Steven and Cheryl were on loudspeakers. He could hear every time they spoke, every little thing that made them laugh and their laughter. Steven's laughter seemed to echo throughout the entire house. His donkey-like laughter. It was almost _funny_. It made Brendan laugh at least.

The house seemed somehow warmer. It was more of a home now. Brendan felt a bit more peaceful and at ease.

He looked back down to his essay and saw that he hadn't progressed since before.  
There were only three words written on his piece of paper: _The Renaissance was_.  
And that was it. Nothing else.

_Fuck_. He had to concentrate. He had to try and shut out all the thoughts of the two downstairs. Or at least the thoughts of one of them. The one who somehow seemed to make his neck feel hot.

The tapping of his pen on the wooden desk seemed extremely quiet in comparison to the sounds the two were making. His legs were fidgeting and he couldn't seem to sit still.

"Pancakes are ready!" Cheryl shouted from downstairs, as though she had shouted through a megaphone.

Brendan jumped up. Food should help him. He was always ready to settle his stomach.

The intense, delicious smell of pancakes seemed to increase the closer Brendan got to the kitchen, until he was standing in the middle of the tiled floor, with the wonderful aromas completely surrounding him.

"Sit down!" Cheryl instructed, already seated at the table.  
He moved over to the table and realised that Cheryl was sitting in Blanaid's spot and Ste was in her's. He couldn't sit in Seamus' seat. He didn't want to. So despite what his mind was telling him, he sat down across from Ste.

Ste looked up at Brendan and gave him a small smile. Brendan felt his cheeks twitching, as though craving to return the smile. He looked down at his plate and saw a nice round pancake already in place for him. Brendan picked up the fork and knife and got a piece of the pancake and took a bite out of it, swallowing it whole.

"This is fantastic!" Brendan said, his mouth watering for another bite.  
"Don't thank me; it was all Ste!" Cheryl grinned, now unashamed by her inability to make food.  
Brendan looked up at Ste whose eyes seemed to be hidden behind his long eyelashes, and nodded in appreciation.

Cheryl then started to babble on about how the rest of her evening had gone after the dance. Apparently she'd met some cute guy at the party.  
"If he hurts you, I'll break him." Brendan growled.  
No one was going to hurt his baby sister.  
Ste snorted in response.  
"What?" Brendan then asked, caught off-guard.  
"You're going to break him?" Ste asked back.  
"Yes." Brendan replied, his teeth gritted.  
Ste started laughing and Brendan found himself laughing as well.

The kid wasn't too bad.

* * *

After they'd finished the meal, Cheryl and Brendan stood in the kitchen, clearing up the dishes as Ste sat in the living room. He wasn't being rude; Cheryl had told him to go. He was a guest in their house after all.

"So," Cheryl started whispering quietly, "I saw you two were getting along."  
She didn't know, did she?  
"What do you mean?" He asked, feeling as though he could see the walls beginning to close in on him.  
"At breakfast. You two spoke a bit." She explained, unsuspecting.  
_Thank God._  
"Just a bit. I don't know him really." Brendan said before quickly changing the subject back to the 'cute boy' from the after party.

After they'd cleaned up, Brendan made his way upstairs to his bedroom once more. He had to stay safe in his room.

His essay was still lying where he'd left it. Unfinished. He sat back down on his chair and cracked his back, neck and knuckles, before picking up his pen and diving right into writing.

He was halfway through his third paragraph about the patronage of the arts throughout the Renaissance and how it was a benefactor to realistic interpretations of the world and advances in technology, when he heard a knocking at his door and a voice gently beginning to talk.

"Cheryl said she had to quickly run and pick something up from Lynsey's."  
Brendan turned around and saw Steven standing halfway through the door to his room, almost as if waiting for an invitation to enter the room.  
"Okay." Brendan said in response, trying to maintain a cool exterior. On the inside he was far from 'cool'.  
"So what you doing?" Ste asked, now slowly moving inside his room.  
"Just writing some essay." Brendan responded quietly.  
"Oh, sorry. I didn't realise you were working, I'll let you get on." Ste said, turning around to leave the room.  
Brendan felt a pull inside him, "No," He quickly said, "It's alright, you can stay."

Ste shifted back inside the room and went and sat on the edge of Brendan's bed. The distance between them felt massive, with Brendan on his desk chair and Ste on the bed. Brendan suddenly became very aware of his surroundings; he had some clothes lying on the floor, his boxers included. What would Steven think? Would he be grossed out?

_Snap out it_. He thought. He had never felt self-conscious about his room before when his other mates would come over.

"So what you writing about?" Ste asked, trying to fill up the silence.  
"Renaissance." Brendan responded without elaborating.  
Ste nodded.

Suddenly his face lit up and he said, "I have something for you!"  
Brendan was nervous. What could it be? Why was he giving stuff to Brendan?

Ste opened his jacket, reached inside and pulled out what looked like a little book.  
"Macbeth." Ste said, reaching out and handing it to Brendan.  
Brendan was surprised. He wasn't expecting that.

When he held onto he book, he felt Ste's fingers against his. It felt like an electric rush. He pulled the book back quickly.

"Thank you." Brendan managed to utter.  
"It's alright," Ste responded, "I figured since you seemed so keen on it and Terry took the one you were gonna read. And I thought maybe you could help me to understand what it's about and stuff…"

Ste looked shy and nervous. He was doing that thing where he was biting on his lower lip again. And he was fiddling with his jacket sleeve. It made Brendan smile, seeing Steven so nervous.

"Okay." Brendan said, looking up at Ste again and giving him a small smile.

This felt nice. It felt easy. Just sitting there, talking, no one else around. It was simple. For the first time Brendan felt like he wasn't being judged for every little thing. He could just talk freely and Ste would watch him, with curious, open and willing eyes. And then Ste would remember something that had happened, and he would begin talking, bubbling. He was so full of life and energy.

Brendan found himself walking back and forth in the room while telling Ste about Macbeth.  
"So it's almost as if he wants to take control of his own future, yet believes in fate, because he believes in the prophecies of the witches. He keeps on going back and forth. It's like he's sitting on the fence and just refuses to decide what to do." He was almost out of breath.  
"You really like this stuff, don't you?" Ste asked, smiling from the bed, where he had now made himself more comfortable and had his jacket off.  
"I know it's extremely dorky to say it, but I do," Brendan replied.  
He then moved in and sat down next to Ste, and got really close. He lowered his voice and said, "But if you ever tell I soul that I love Shakespeare, I'll get you back."

Suddenly the moment felt intense. Brendan was beginning to feel the same way he'd felt at the party. Ste's breath was warm against Brendan's skin, only a few inches away. His pulse seemed to be going crazy.

Before he could stop himself, he moved in again and pressed his lips against Ste's once, then pulled back.

Ste looked at him, his pupils blown.

Ste then moved back and connected his lips to Brendan's.

It felt as though they couldn't get enough. Brendan felt him slip his tongue into Ste's mouth, their tongues soon twirling against each other. Ste's fingers were running through Brendan's hair, his skin feeling warm and cold at the same time against Brendan's scalp.

All of a sudden they heard a door slam and they jumped apart.

_Fuck_.

Was it Seamus?

This couldn't be happening.


	10. Chapter 10

The door slammed shut and Brendan and Ste jumped apart.

Brendan's mind was racing, going over all the people it could possibly be. Could it be Seamus and Blanaid? Would it be Cheryl?

He suddenly realised he was still sitting on the bed, his hand touching Ste's. He pulled his arm back and quickly got up, sweat already forming on his forehead.

"Get the fuck out of my room!" Brendan shouted.  
Ste's eyes were wide and alarmed.  
"Okay…" Ste replied quietly, slowly standing up.  
"And I'm not a fucking queer!" Brendan snarled, the veins on his forehead bulging.  
"Don't ever come near me again!" Brendan continued as he grabbed Ste's forearm and pulled him towards the door.  
"I won't tell anyone, I promise." Ste said, his voice quivering.  
Did he not get it?!  
"There's nothing to tell!" Brendan yelled as he pushed Ste against the wall next to his door.

"What's the fuss about?" Cheryl then asked, her face popping through the doorway.  
Brendan immediately let go of Ste.  
"Nothing." He said angrily.  
"Nothing." Ste responded as well, his voice almost inaudible.  
Ste's shoulders were hanging and he quickly left the room, Cheryl's eyes watching him move out, and Brendan staring at the floor, unsure of what had just happened.

Cheryl turned to Brendan, "Did you hurt him?!"  
"No." Brendan replied, his words sharp.  
"What did you do to him?!" She yelled, her voice only getting louder.  
"Nothing! The fucking creep was pestering me, so I told him to fuck off!"  
"This is so typical of you!" Cheryl protested while throwing her arms up, "You don't like someone, so the moment I have my back turned, you're a complete and total dickhead to them! Well, you know what, Brendan? Fuck you!"  
And with that she turned around and slammed his door shut on his face.

Brendan let out a breath. _Fuck_. What was happening to him?! What was happening to his life?

He grabbed his coat off the floor and left his room as well. He had to get out of that house.

* * *

After a few hours of roaming around by himself, Brendan had ended up with some of his mates. Daniel and Orin to be specific. Brendan wasn't sure he would classify them as 'friends' in the same way most people would. They were often just there. They'd go to a pub somewhere together, get pissed, and find somebody to pick on.

They were occupying a booth in one of the pubs in town. Brendan was about three drinks in. The people around him just began to seem a bit fuzzy. Out of focus. That was it. There were some loud people across the bar, who were disturbing everyone else.

"Who do those fuckers think they are?!" Brendan slurred angrily.  
"Just some twats probably." Orin responded, his voice also slightly slurred.  
"I think we should go over there and teach 'em a lesson." Brendan suggested, already standing up and getting ready to go in for the kill.

Daniel and Orin slid out of the booth as well, and the three made their way to the other side.  
"Can you please shut the fuck up?" Brendan asked the tall, and loudest one of the group.  
"Excuse me?" He turned and stood up tall to Brendan.  
"You heard me."  
"Do you have a problem, mate?" The guy asked, not seeming to bite the bait.  
"I'm not your fucking mate." Brendan hissed in response.  
"Whatever, you faggot." The guy grunted.  
Brendan saw red.  
"I'm not a fucking faggot!" He yelled, his voice clear and loud.

Brendan lunged at the other guy and punched him in the stomach. The guy winced, but quickly got back up and took a shot at Brendan and hit him, fists closed, in the face. Brendan felt his jaw click, but ignored the feeling and decided to get back. He bent his head down and ran into the guy, slamming against a wall while doing it. He pulled his arms back and began hitting as hard as he could.

He wasn't sure what Daniel and Orin were doing exactly, but he assumed they were taking on the mates of his opponent. He heard some glasses smashing and the grunts of being winded.

Brendan kept on swinging and hitting for the other guy, getting punches back as well. He was sure his fists were covered in blood, because they almost seemed slippery now.

And suddenly somebody was pulling his back and pushing him onto the ground.

He felt weak.

A heavy body moved on top of him and began punching him in the face continuously. A constant pounding to his face and he started seeing all kinds of colours.

But it wasn't anything he wasn't already used to.

Brendan tried lifting his hands, but nothing seemed to work. His arms felt dead at the side of his body and his legs were just numb.

Then there was just darkness.

* * *

Brendan thought back and remembered some arms lifting him. He remembered hearing a voice. He remembered a car screeching, doors opening.

But now all he could see was the ceiling of his living room. The room was almost entirely dark. He wasn't sure how he'd ended up here.

He still felt extremely weak and his entire body ached when he tried to move.

"Got yourself in a mess, didn't you?"

Brendan jumped, immediately regretting the natural instinct when a piercing pain shot through his body.

"And there I was, getting a call that my boy had gotten into a fight." Seamus began.

He was sitting on the armchair a few footsteps away from Brendan.

"So I had to go and pick him up," Seamus continued.

"And you know what the worst part was?" He asked, putting down a glass of what Brendan assumed was whiskey.

"He lost."

Brendan then heard the springs of the armchair squeaking and heard as Seamus footsteps moved over to the sofa.

"My fucking faggot of a son lost the fight." Seamus' breath was now close in Brendan's face.

He reeked of all things unpleasant.

Brendan felt shivers running through him.

"At least now," He continued in an eerily calm tone, "Someone has already taught him a lesson, so I won't have to do that tonight."

Then he moved away, and Brendan sighed in relief, as the air above his face cleared once again.

"Don't you ever embarrass me like that, or I will make you regret it." Seamus snarled as he moved away.

Brendan could make out the dark figure moving out of the living room.

He choked on his breath as the tears began forming in his eyes.

He was a mess.

* * *

The daylight had begun to slowly creep in through the curtains. But it was dark enough for Brendan to know that it was still early.

And it was Monday. School again. That meant Brendan would have to face people.

He got up off the sofa and limped down the hall to the stairs. His knee seemed to be only worse now. The pain had seemed to disappear for a few days, but now it was just excruciating. His face felt like it was itching, but when Brendan put his fingers to his face, he immediately stopped and left it to itch. He hadn't seen the exact state of himself yet, but he knew, judging by how he felt, that he wasn't doing too well.

The spaces between the steps had never seemed so far apart. Brendan found himself stepping with his right leg and lifting his left leg while keeping it as straight as possible.

Once he managed to get upstairs, he got some clothes from his bedroom and moved to the bathroom, where he made sure he locked the door, before peeling his clothes off.

He carefully laid down his clothes, which he now realised were covered in blood, on the side of the bathtub. Brendan then looked in the mirror and carefully studied himself.

His right eye was completely bruised and shaded in purple and blue. He had some cuts running through his lips and cheeks. There was some dried blood coating his nostrils, and his nose seemed red. He looked down in the mirror at his chest and arms. His chest was spotted in small blue bruises, some much worse than others.

Brendan reached down and turned on the tap, letting the water run until it reached a nice warm temperature, but not too hot. Once it was at a decent temperature, he cupped his two hands and splashed some of the water against his face.

The truth was what scared Brendan the most. A bit less than a day ago, he had been kissing another guy. It was sick. It was disgusting. _He_ was _disgusting_.

So he deserved it. He deserved for his skin to be broken. For his blood to be running. He deserved every little thing he had coming at him.

He kept gently throwing the water against his sore face. Soon he couldn't distinguish between the tap water and the tears that seemed to leak out of his already sore eyes.

His mind kept replaying the recent events, and the more he though about it, the more broken he felt, and the angrier he got. He kept seeing red, and his blood just seemed to boil. He deserved pain. Before he knew what he was doing, he turned the water up to the hottest temperature and was splashing it against his face, cringing from the contact.

Pain wasn't an excuse, because he deserved it all.

* * *

Explaining his bruises wasn't easy to do. Normally he had a few bruises on his stomach, and could just hide them from people by just wearing a shirt and skipping gym classes, but now his bruises were exposed to every person who walked past him.

Brendan had attempted to conceal himself behind a black hoodie, but the hoodie could only hide so much. And most of his teachers got angry at him for having his hood up in class, so he'd have to sit there and watch as they all got the same shocked reaction when he pulled it down.

But none of them cared to ask him what had happened, or if he was okay, because he already was the bad guy. Most of his teachers probably thought he'd had it coming. He was the bad kid in school. So he deserved everything. They knew it just as well as Brendan did.

At lunchtime Brendan went and hid away in the library, not wanting to talk to any of his so called friends, who had left him to be beaten at the pub. He couldn't deal with their shit today.

At the end of lunch, when Brendan decided to head on over to his next class, in order to slip in before anyone took bigger notice of him, he ran into Cheryl.

That morning he'd left before he had to be confronted by any of his family members. Not today.

"Chez…" Brendan started the moment he saw her at the end of the hall.  
"I don't want to talk to you, Brendan." Cheryl replied coldly.  
"Please, come on!" Brendan begged, "I'm your brother!"  
"You being my brother doesn't stop me from telling you to bugger off!"  
Cheryl then turned around and left Brendan alone in the school hallway.

Why was all this shit happening to him?!

He turned around and kicked some of the lockers, causing his knee to send a sharp pain throughout his body.

"Fuck!" He yelled, his voice echoing down the hall.

Brendan was just exhausted of it all. He could never seem to catch a break and just be. No matter what he did, he screwed things up. He couldn't get anything right. Brendan was a failure. He was a failure and shame of a person. Seamus probably knew it all along. He knew all along what kind of a disgusting freak Brendan was, and that's why he did what he did. He had to somehow fix Brendan.

The sobs escaping Brendan bounced off the walls of the empty hallway.

* * *

The day just seemed to drag on until the final school bell had rung. Brendan slid off of his seat, casually flipping his hood back over his head at the same time. The students in front of him rushed out of the class as quickly as possible, and he snailed along behind them, not caring if he would be a little late.

When he finally exited the building through one of the side exits, Ste came running up to him.

"Brendan!" He shouted.  
Brendan ignored him and continued walking on.  
"We need to talk!" Ste shouted, now approaching him.  
"Just…" He started, "Just please can we talk?"

Something snapped inside Brendan, and he turned and pushed Ste against the brick wall of the school.

"I have nothing to say to you!" Brendan snarled.  
Ste gasped and he was shaking.  
"I'm not a fucking faggot, and if you go running off your mouth to anyone, I swear to God, I will end you!" Brendan yelled, his arms shaking as well.  
Brendan let him down and stormed off towards the main courtyard.

He resisted the urge to look back. He didn't want to see how sad Ste would look. He didn't want to have to see the fear in Ste's eyes. The fear he had implanted. He didn't want to see the way he was damaging Ste.

In the courtyard Brendan spotted Eileen. He made his way over to her and gave her a hug when he reached her, followed by a kiss on the lips. He had to get her taste on his lips again. And get rid of _his_.

As Eileen began babbling on about her weekend, Brendan spotted Ste walking towards the main gate. He was walking so slowly, as if he was carrying the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. His fringe was messed up, and he looked tired.

Brendan felt a pull inside him.

Ste looked up and saw Brendan, so Brendan immediately pulled Eileen in and gave her a kiss. A longer one this time. That would show Steven. He wasn't interested in anyone other than Eileen.

When he finally pulled away and looked back to where Ste had been standing, he was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Once again, thank you so much to everyone who's been reviewing. Honestly, the reviews make it all worth writing. Shorter chapter here than I'd hoped. I feel a bit iffy about it, but that's just me.** **Hope you enjoy it regardless.**

* * *

There were often times in Brendan's life, when he wondered why he wasn't taking some of the drugs he sold. Somehow the kids seemed to feel free. They felt free of their problems and everything.

But then he remembered. He remembered that it was just a synthetic concealer. It wouldn't actually make him forget. It couldn't erase the past. Or the present. Or any of the damage he had done or had been done to him. Nothing could.

Fortunately the bruises and cuts inflicting his skin were beginning to heal. Slowly, but surely, his body would appear unbroken.

But inside… On the inside he had never felt more broken. He felt the demons inside him, fighting to get out. He was constantly being tormented by everything inside him, yelling at him, urging him to do something.

Part of him wanted to stand up and get into fights with everyone. Another part of him wanted to go off and be with Eileen. But the part of him, that almost seemed to be the strongest part was the one telling him that he needed to go to Steven. To somehow rectify was he'd done. Make it up to him. But that was the part he needed to repress. He shouldn't be getting those feelings. Any normal guy wouldn't.

Any normal guy would be shagging Eileen until they felt blinded by the ecstasy of it all. A normal guy would go and play football with his mates, without worrying about them seeing the bruises tainting his skin. A normal guy wouldn't worry about what would happen if one of the other guys caught his unintentional lingering eyes.

Brendan wasn't normal. And he knew it.

Ever since Brendan was a small child, something always felt _off_. It wasn't anything he could put a word on. Something was just different about him. For the longest time, he just pressed that nagging feeling away, hoping it would never pop up again. And then there was Seamus. The bruises, the doctor visits, the lying. _Our little secret._

The beach house was Brendan's worst nightmare. He always remembered how Cheryl would be jumping in joy weeks and weeks before their traditional trip. Of course she'd look forward to it; she wouldn't have to endure the same things Brendan had to. They'd arrive at the house, and the countdown would begin in Brendan's mind. He'd go for runs on the beach, build sandcastles with an eager Cheryl, and try anything to keep himself busy, but it always was there. _Ticking_. Waiting.

And now, in the silent hours of the day, Brendan found himself waiting again. Only now he wasn't sure what exactly he was waiting for.

About a week had passed since the whole _incident_, and Brendan found himself sitting at the kitchen table, going over the events in his mind. His legs were bouncing up and down, unable to keep still. His fingers were tapping the wooden table in a constant rhythm.

No one else was home. It was only Brendan and his thoughts, which seemed to cry louder than anyone or anything could.

He was contemplating. Contemplating if he should go out and find him. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to escape his thoughts of Steven. Of the way he had instilled fear into his face. The look on Steven's face when he'd pushed him up against the wall terrified Brendan. He was just as much of a monster as Seamus. Because fear was the weapon they both used most.

But there was a difference between Brendan and Seamus. Or at least, Brendan thought there was. He felt remorse. He felt sorrow. He felt cold and dark inside knowing what he had done to Ste.

* * *

After about an hour, Brendan ended up in Eileen's house, listening half-heartedly as she spoke to him, her voice sweet and light.

It wasn't that he didn't want to go to Ste's. As a matter of fact it was the complete opposite. He _couldn't_ go to Ste's. Because that would be a defeat. He couldn't give in to the temptation. He had the resist. And the only way to properly do that would to be with Eileen.

"I just love being with you, Brendan!" Eileen said, her eyes bright.  
"Me too." Brendan replied softly, taking her hand into his.  
"You make me feel so alive." Eileen whispered, barely able to contain herself.

He was sitting with the most stunning girl in school, on her bed, with her telling him that she found him amazing. He could see in her eyes that she really had fallen for him. But somehow it just seemed ordinary. All he had to do was put on a bit of The Brady Charm. He was the perfect gentleman. He listened, he waited, he wouldn't push.

Eileen then moved her body closer to Brendan's and tilted her head upwards, planting her lips against his. She moved her hand down his body until her fingers were dancing along the zipper of his jeans.

This felt wrong.

He couldn't seem to get his mind in the right place. He could only think about how much he'd hurt people. And by people, there was really only one person he had in mind. Steven. He'd been unnecessarily cruel and harsh.

They were friends, weren't they? Friends apologise if they do the wrong thing, right? They could just apologise, then do what mates do. Just hang out with each other, talking, doing a whole lot of nothing really. Maybe he'd tell Steven about Eileen. Or ask him which girls he had an eye for.

Brendan then felt a stab of coldness rush through him. He didn't want to know which girls Steven liked. He just didn't care for it. There was no need to know.

"Am I doing something wrong?" Eileen asked, breaking Brendan's train of thought.

Brendan looked down and saw her hand gripping the jean covering his crotch. But there was nothing. Not even a twitch.

"Just not really feeling up for it." Brendan shrugged. It happened to everyone sometimes.  
"Hey, look," Brendan then started, "I've got to do something. I'll talk to you later."

He stood up, then bent down and gave Eileen a peck on the cheek once more. He left the room without looking back.

* * *

After intently searching the directory, Brendan found himself standing in a shabby garden. Weeds were growing in all sorts of directions. The fences were barely holding up, and looked like they hadn't had a paint job in about 15 years.

Brendan was glad it wasn't him who was living in such conditions, but something in him made him feel sympathy for the boy who did.

He kept pacing up and down the garden, unsure of whether he really wanted to go in. He needed to apologise. He knew that. He needed to somehow let Ste know that he was sorry. He didn't want anything else off of him. But he was different to his dad. He'd apologise. He had to.

Reluctantly, after going over the situation numerous times in his mind, Brendan clenched his hand into a fist and knocked on the door three times, and waited.

There didn't seem to be an answer.

But Brendan felt as though there was someone inside, so he turned around and walked to the side of the house. It was clear that Ste wasn't from a very wealthy family, considering the standards of his shambled house. But then again, something Brendan knew very well, was that you don't choose the family you're born into. Ste had no power in where he'd end up.

He peered through a window and saw a figure quickly scurry away into the hallway. Brendan immediately moved back to the front door and began anxiously knocking again.

"Steven!" He yelled, his fists hammering against the door.  
"I know you're in there," He continued, "Just let me in!"

Still no response.

"I want to talk." Brendan said more quietly, as his shoulders began to slouch.  
He turned around, ready to leave. Obviously Steven didn't want to talk to him at all.

"Fine." A voice croaked from behind Brendan.

Brendan jumped around and saw Ste, standing hidden behind the door. He made his way to the door and followed Ste, who led the way in.  
"Terry and mum are out, so it's just me…" Ste mumbled, walking in front of Brendan slowly.

He led Brendan to what Brendan assumed was their living room; it had a slightly tacky sofa with a television in the corner. Ste went and sat down on the sofa, his face still hidden behind a navy hoodie. Brendan took a spot next to Ste, leaving a good distance between them. He was just here as a friend.

"Why do you have your hood on inside?" Brendan suddenly asked, the question popping out of nowhere.  
"Cos' I can." Ste replied coldly.  
"Okay…" Brendan responded, feeling the hostility hit him hard.

Silence enveloped the room, as two sat on the sofa. The curtains were drawn and it looked as though someone had been burrowed away in the room for a while.

"Look Steve," Brendan then started, needing to get the stuff off his chest, "I shouldn't have been so cold."  
Ste sat silent, his face seeming to look out the window.  
"Okay, I… I just lost it. I blew my cool." Brendan continued.  
"Please, just…" He was starting to feel desperate, "Just look at me alright!"

Brendan then took hold of Steven's shoulder and turned him to face Brendan, pulling down his hood at the same time. He gasped in shock when he saw the state of Ste's face. It was as though he was looking at a reflection of himself. There were some gashes on his red lips, and some blue specks, dusting his cheeks.

"What happened?" Brendan asked.  
"Nothing." Ste mumbled in response, quickly trying to pull his hoodie up.

Nothing. Brendan knew what nothing meant. It meant that the stuff was too serious to tell you. It was what he found himself constantly saying in school. _What happened, Brendan? Nothing. None of your fucking business._

"Terry?"  
Ste nodded in response, and Brendan watched as tears began to form in the corners of Ste's blue eyes.

Without hesitation Brendan moved forward and wrapped his arms around Ste. Ste began sobbing in Brendan's arms, and he remained there. Holding him.

Ste was warm against Brendan. And their bodies just seemed to fit somehow.

But this was what friends do for each other. They're there when they need them most. So that's what Brendan was being. A good friend.

*

Brendan had been holding Ste for what felt like ages, when he finally pulled away.

"I'm ordering pizza, what do you fancy?" Brendan asked, nonchalant.  
"Pepperoni." Ste answered silently, a smile beginning to form on his face.

Brendan picked up the phone and dialed to order pizza. Luckily he had some spare cash in his pocket, and could easily afford the pizza. It'd be just like hanging out with Orin. They'd have some pizza, play some videos games, talk about stuff, mostly girls. There was no reason Brendan couldn't just hang out with Steven. He didn't have to feel weird around him.

After half an hour, the pizza delivery man came to the door, and Brendan immediately jumped up, not taking his chances on Ste offering to pay. When he finally got the pizza and went back to the living room, much as he'd thought, he saw Ste trying to fish out some change from the piggy bank.

"I paid, don't worry." Brendan told him, a wolfish grin forming on his face when he saw Ste's frustrated look.  
"You didn't have to." Ste grunted.

They ate the pizza in the company of some video games, just as Brendan had thought they'd do.

After both pizza boxes were empty, Brendan and Ste had gotten into an intense match on the game console.  
"You're definitely cheating!" Brendan said, a scowl etched onto his face. He didn't enjoy losing.  
"You're just jealous!" Ste replied, not lifting an eye from the screen.  
"Am not. You're a cheat. Just admit it!" Brendan replied, getting angrier as he began jabbing the buttons on the remote controller.  
"You just suck!" Ste laughed back.  
"Do not!" Brendan shouted as he put down the remote and tackled Ste.

Ste wasn't as weak as he looked, and he'd managed to twist Brendan around until Ste had him in a headlock. Brendan began laughing when he saw Ste's monkey smile. Taking advantage of the moment, Brendan quickly spun out of the headlock and got Ste under him.

And suddenly they weren't laughing anymore.

All Brendan could see was Ste below him. He saw as Ste's eyes darted from Brendan's eyes to his lips, and he felt as he did the same to Ste. Brendan saw as Ste's mouth hung open, still panting from their wrestling.

Then Brendan's hand was holding the side of Ste's face, his skin soft against Brendan's hand. Ste's skin was warm, and his cheeks were burning pink.

Brendan felt as Ste's hand grazed against his ear and then was steady against the side of his head, slowly brushing against his hair.

It was as though none of their regular lives mattered anymore. The bruises and cuts covering both their faces were disregarded. They didn't matter here. They couldn't define the situation and they couldn't change it.

And then, as if in slow motion, he watched as Ste leaned upwards, his breath getting closer to Brendan, and gently pressed his mouth against Brendan's.

There were sparks running through Brendan's body. He'd never felt more charged in his life. It was as though all his senses had been amplified. He was feeling every single thing. He felt the press of Ste's body under his, the softness of his hand against the side of his head, and the delicate touch of his lips.

The moment just seemed to go on, as all the hairs on Brendan's body seemed to stand up. He opened his mouth and let the kiss widen.

Ste's tongue just seemed to swirl against his, warm and wet. His hair felt soft against Brendan's fingers.

Questions began erupting in Brendan's mind. _What would the rest of Ste's body feel against Brendan's skin?_

So without thinking twice, he moved his hands down, trying to run them against every surface of Ste's body. It was a primal instinct. To just get the most of Ste he could. To _feel_ everything he could.

The skin on Brendan's back was suddenly exposed to the cold air as his own shirt was being lifted and slightly pulled up over his back. Ste's hands were running over his skin, making him jump a little from the contact.

He thought he had been cold before, but now it felt like his skin was on fire. It felt as though every pore on his body had been opened.

It just felt so right.

Brendan continued kissing Ste as though he were his lifeline, groaning into Steven's mouth, and feeling as Ste's moans hit him to the core.

Suddenly Brendan felt as Ste's hands moved away from his back and ended up on his belt buckle, slowly trying to pry it open.

_But_… But what would he do?

Brendan couldn't have another bloke touching him down there. It was just wrong. And that would make him queer. And he wasn't queer.

He quickly lifted himself up from the couch, his arms strained and feeling weak.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He asked, his voice croaking.  
"What I thought we both wanted." Ste sighed, suddenly realising Brendan's switch had flipped.  
"Like I said before: we're just mates. I'm not queer." Brendan stated, articulating every consonant trying to make his point come across as clearly as possible.

The room was a mess and Brendan started to grow anxious, worrying about where he'd left his coat. What would people think if Ste had his coat?

He sighed in relief as he spotted it under the couch, where Ste was still lying. Ste now had his head leaning against the arm rest of the sofa, his eyes closed and his breath beginning to steady. He was annoyed. Any fool could see that. Brendan found his eyes wandering and scanning Ste's body, seeing the surfaces where his shirt had ridden up. His skin looked so tan in comparison to Brendan's. Brendan's eyes continued to look over Ste's body, suddenly spotting a slight tent in his track pants. Brendan felt his cheeks burning red, and an indescribable burning in his chest. He quickly looked away, and suddenly felt uncomfortable when he realised his own pants felt just slightly too tight on him.

This wasn't normal. Guys shouldn't feel things like this.

And with that, he turned around, and left through the front door, adjusting his pants as he did.


	12. Chapter 12

Steven's hands were on him again. Running through his damp hair, running over his skin. Touching. Feeling. And Brendan was responding. His fingers gently moved down Ste's chest, running over his soft, bronze skin.

And suddenly a hand was wrapped around his hard cock, firm and pressing. The hand swiftly moved up and down and Brendan moaned, unable to contain himself.

This was ecstasy.

But suddenly, just as he felt close, almost connected, his door burst open.

_Seamus_.

Brendan gasped and jumped off Ste, falling onto the floor with a thud.

He opened his eyes and saw that he was alone in the confines of his room. There was no Steven in his bed, and no Seamus at his door.

He was wearing boxers, but his skin was moist and covered in sweat. Brendan quickly got up and moved back to his bed. He shut his eyes closed and tried to think of anything but the dream he had just had.

Why was his mind playing tricks on him? He wasn't queer. He wouldn't want to be touching Ste, or to be touched by him. Brendan felt his cheeks burning at the thought of his dream. It had been _interesting_.

He opened his eyes and looked at the door again. What if Seamus were to walk in on something like that? Brendan would probably not be able to move a muscle without pain surging through him for weeks following the discovery. But Brendan knew he would deserve it. It was disgusting. Only perverts get involved in things like that. With other men. Sex is meant to be between a man and a woman. Love is meant to be between a man and a woman. The way God intended it to be. The way he'd been taught his entire life in church. The way Seamus had drilled it into him. It was just the way things are supposed to be.

After being entirely sure that there was no one in his room but him, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It wouldn't come easily tonight. Brendan already knew that.

Every time he closed his eyes now, he saw the blonde boy. He saw the way he'd laugh when Brendan teased him. He saw the way he'd blush and look down at his feet, unsure of what to say. He saw the way Steven had let all his walls down. But maybe it wasn't just Steven who had let his walls down in Ste's living room. Maybe it was both of them.

Brendan knew sex. He knew what it felt like to get a moment of relief. But whatever he was going through, felt like more than just sex. Felt like more than just touching and being touched, however scarcely that had actually occurred.

It was indescribable. And it hurt. It hurt more than someone calling him something vulgar, or a punch to his gut. It was a paradox that seemed to be building him up and shattering him into a million little pieces, all at the same time.

He sighed.

"God dammit!" He said out loud, knowing no one would be able to hear him.

* * *

When he next opened his eyes it was morning and Brendan could hear Cheryl shouting from her room.  
"It's snowing!" She squealed.

Brendan sighed. She was probably still angry at him. When she got in these moods all he needed was a bit of time to lure her out of it. In a matter of days, she'd soon forget about the whole ordeal.

"There's someone here to see you." Blanaid suddenly said, her head popping in through Brendan's doorway.  
"Who is it?" He asked, his mind racing at a thousand miles per second.  
_Could it be Steven?_  
"Pretty, little girl. She seems sweet." Blanaid replied with a smile.

Eileen.

It was clear that she was proud of Brendan for landing such a girl. Brendan flashed his teeth in response. Anyone would be excited about their girlfriend coming to them first thing in the morning.

He waited until Blanaid had left the room before throwing his sheets off his body and getting dressed. There were still slight shadows of bruises plastering his skin. Blanaid knew he got in trouble, she just didn't need to know the extent to which it happened.

Brendan moved over to the window and pushed the curtains open. The entire street was blanketed in a layer of snow. He couldn't help but feel somewhat at ease by it. It looked almost perfect. Few things in Brendan's life were perfect, and he was entirely aware of it. But this, the snow, was just a natural perfection. That was, until the little children from his street would decide to go and plow their way through it, building snowmen and attempting to make igloos, which always turned out to be shit.

He suddenly remembered who was waiting for him downstairs, so he got dressed and made his way down through the house to the front door.

Eileen stood at the door, her body wrapped in gear ready for the snow. She had a big, jacket on, a beanie with a little pom-pom at the top, and a scarf wrapped neatly around her neck. Her cheeks were rosey, presumably because she'd been outside for quite a while.

"Hey Eileen." Brendan said calmly, a smile emerging on his face.  
"Hi." She said, sneaking looks at him from under her eyelashes.

Brendan didn't understand why she had the need to always do things like that. To look at him that way. She was nice. When she did things like that, he just… Didn't feel much of anything.

"Who's this pretty girl?" Seamus asked, walking to the door from outside, snow shovel in hand.  
Brendan stopped cold. He didn't like the idea of Seamus being anywhere near his friends.  
"It's Eileen." He said quietly.  
"Oh the infamous Eileen!" Seamus exclaimed, a smirk forming on his face.  
"Yeah," Brendan mumbled, "Actually we were just going to my room, so…"  
"Say no more." Seamus replied and knowingly grinned.

Brendan put his arm around Eileen and guided her to the stairs.

"Little devil…" Seamus chuckled under his breath.  
Shivers ran up and down Brendan's spine.

Once Brendan and Eileen were in his room, Brendan felt unsure of what to do. She seemed to want to do stuff with him, that he just wasn't in the mood for doing. She kept trying to press her body up against his, or squeeze her arms together and make her breasts look bigger.

"I've had a lot of my mind." Brendan mumbled, trying to get her to stop.

She seemed to be making a fool of herself.

Suddenly she picked something up from his nightstand, and began examining it.  
"Macbeth?" She asked, a frown etched on her brow.  
Brendan jumped out of his seat and grabbed it out of her hand.  
"For English class." He tried to explain.  
"Okay. Why do you have it at home?" She then asked, as if incapable of understanding why anyone would like Shakespeare.  
"Because…" Brendan began with no intention of continuing.  
"Because of what?" She asked back, not seeming to take the hint.

Why did she keep on prying? Obviously he didn't want to tell her.

So he did what he knew he had to do to distract her, and moved to the bed, where she was sitting. He put his hand on her cheek and gently caressed her skin.

Was his hand even in the right spot?

Brendan then moved forward and pulled her into a kiss. She responded by leaning back and lying down on the bed, pulling him on top of her as he did.

This was it. He'd have to do it again.

It had all felt so manual throughout. He knew what he was supposed to do, and he did it. He knew the way he was supposed to move his hips, rocking back and forth, so he did. It almost felt robotic.

But somehow it didn't seem to mesh. Her body didn't seem to fit against his, and he felt out of place. No matter how hard he tried to close his eyes, it just felt weird. Wrong, almost.

After it had finally ended, Eileen seemed to be glowing. She snuggled up against Brendan's chest.

He closed his eyes and began counting down the minutes until she'd leave again.

* * *

While Brendan did truly enjoy seeing the snow, he often despised it because of the inconvenience it caused him. He wasn't able to go out and jog without risking slipping and hurting his knee even more. And to be honest, he thought the cold was a bit of a bitch. He didn't enjoy dressing for winter. He just had a big coat, and that was pretty much it.

So instead of jogging, he'd ended up walking aimlessly through the streets, hoping to somehow clear his mind. But instead of being left alone, he had run into Orin.

"Mate, come on!" Orin said, "Let's go play some video games and chill."  
"I can't." Brendan replied, knowing that he wouldn't be let off without a fight.  
"Seriously. I haven't spoken to you in ages!" He urged.

Maybe it could be good for him. Just some down town with a friend. Playing video games, doing nothing really.

"Fine." Brendan gave in.  
"Alright!" Orin exclaimed as he clapped his hands together.

As they walked, they simply talked about random recent events. They spoke of teachers they hated, which guys had managed to get laid after the school party, and which guys were simply losers who hadn't managed to get any.

"Right, she was just begging for it, and I fucked her good!" Orin exclaimed, not caring of his profane language.  
Brendan laughed in response. He knew Orin was a bit of a pig.  
"And that girl of yours," Orin started, "How is she?"

Why did Orin have to go and ruin their good time? It didn't feel right talking about it.

"Good." Brendan responded, before switching the subject to how Eoin had taken Lynsey to the dance.

After walking for about ten minutes, Orin stopped and turned to Brendan, his eyes wide and excited.  
"How about we go to the club?"  
"I don't know." Brendan replied.

He'd heard a lot of stuff about the club. He was no stranger to boxing, but the club was a bit of a trashy place. People would place bets on fights, and try to make a buck out of it.

"You love boxing!" Orin said, his eyes almost pleading Brendan to say yes.  
Brendan sighed.  
"Fine."

He was weak.

* * *

The minute they entered the building, Brendan could tell this place wasn't some flimsy, come and go as you please, club. It was real. The way the air smelt, the way the men walked around, faces serious and ready for battle, were all proof of it.

Brendan soon found the gloves, and ended up taking off his coat and shirt, being left in only his grey vest. He then moved to the ring, lifting up the rope and getting inside.

A man, probably only about two or three year's older than Brendan, got into the ring with him. The man had a shaven head, and tattoos covering his arms. Brendan watched as the guy turned and spat down onto the ground outside the ring.

"This is just a practice round." Another guy, outside of the ring, told Brendan and his opponent.  
"Kill him!" Orin shouted from outside the ring.

And the next thing Brendan knew, the match had started. He jumped back and forth on his feet, shifting around the ring, trying to find a good position and moment to strike.

Before he could, he was hit by the guy. This wasn't a good start.

"Just direct all your anger on him." Orin said loudly enough for Brendan to hear.

So Brendan did just that. He thought of all the things that seemed to be fucked up in his life. Brendan thought of his friends and how they'd left him to get beaten at the bar. He thought of loyalty and how they'd had none of it.

Then he thought about his father and one day getting him back. Fighting him. Beating him until _he_ couldn't walk anymore. Until his tears had turned to blood.

And finally he thought of the boy. He thought of the weird, disgusting feelings he'd been getting. He thought of the way his mind seemed to be overpowered by them. He thought of how much he hated himself for it, or his subconscious for making him think things like that. He thought of Steven's house. The pizza, the video games, the couch, the burning sensation in his touch.

Brendan channelled all his frustration and rage into this moment. The moment where he'd win the fight and be more of a man than any of the losers standing around the ring.

And suddenly he was spitting out his mouth guard and being patted on the back by Orin. Some men who'd been standing by the water cooler made their way over to him.

"Awesome fight, mate!" They said, shaking his hand.

Brendan stopped and saw that the other guy had moved from lying on the ground, and was now leaning against one of the poles on the side.

He felt a sudden twinge of remorse. It had just been a small fight. But then again, this was life. Life wasn't about stopping and taking pity. It was about winning. It was about fighting and being the best, and striking in moments of weakness. You should never let your guard down, because you will lose. Of course there'd be losers. Without losers they'd be living in a fucked up world. And now, Brendan was the winner.

* * *

Glitter seemed to be getting everywhere, covering the ground, their chairs and the tables. Somehow Brendan and Orin had ended up in a strip club. Of all the places in the world, that was where they were.

They hadn't _chosen_ to go to the strip club, but after Brendan's win some of the men who had been watching, took it on them to invite the boys out. So they'd chosen a place they knew every man would enjoy themselves. Brendan and Orin had gotten into the place without a problem, because the men they were with seemed to be regulars there.

"Hey, winner," A tall skinhead they had learned was called Dave started, "I'm gonna buy you a dance. You deserve it!"

Brendan suddenly panicked. He didn't want to have a dance.

"I'm alright." Brendan mumbled in response. He didn't want them to make a deal out of it.  
"What?!" Dave asked, his face containing a look of disgust, "Are you a faggot or something?"  
Sweat seemed to be forming on Brendan's forehead, and his neck felt too warm for comfort.  
"No," He said, seeming to stumble over his own words, "I just have a girlfriend, and I'm not sure she'd like that very much."  
Dave's expression changed, and a smile seemed to form once again. He patted Brendan on the back.  
"No one says she has to find out," He smirked, "Just one little dance. Won't do you any harm."  
"Okay." Brendan said, plastering a smile on his face.

He just let it happen, as a women, dressed in only a thong and a rather revealing bra, came to him and got on his lap.

Dave and Orin seemed to look on him, they're mouths hanging wide open as they imagined themselves in Brendan's position.

The woman began grinding down on Brendan's lap. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. With Eileen, he knew what she wanted, and he knew that he had to give her that. But this… What was he supposed to do?

He looked to his side and saw that now both Dave and Orin were slipping some cash into the bras of two women, and each got a woman to straddle their laps. He watched as their eyes were wide and full of anticipation. Dave slipped his hands onto the hips of the woman who was dancing on him. So Brendan did the same to his woman. He turned and made sure they wouldn't see his eyes on anything else but this dancer.

This was normal. This should be normal. Any guy would kill for something like this. But Brendan couldn't focus. His mind was somewhere else. On someone else.

After what felt like far too long, the woman finally got off and left to grind on some other man. Brendan felt relief wash over him.

"Did you enjoy my gift?" Dave then asked from underneath his dancer.  
"Yeah, she was fantastic!" Brendan responded enthusiastically, hoping to God that no one was able to read his mind.

After Dave turned his attention back onto the woman on his lap, Brendan began fiddling his fingers. He wanted to be anywhere but there. This wasn't him. He just didn't feel it.

"I'm gonna head home." Brendan told Orin as he stood up.  
"Already?" Orin turned to him, shocked that anyone would want to leave that place.

Brendan nodded in response and headed out the door.

The snow was still covering the street, almost blinding him from the contrast of the dark lights inside the club to this. It was still relatively early, and Brendan now found himself wandering the streets for the second time that day.

He knew now that the chances of anyone running into him were slim, considering that that had already happened enough times today.

After walking for about twenty minutes, the pain in his knee seemed to grow, and Brendan found himself heading on home.

* * *

Once he got home he saw Cheryl and a few of her friends playing around in the front garden, throwing snowballs at each other and trying to build snowmen. There was one snowman in the garden that seemed to be quite well endowed. To an extreme point. Some girls were giggling as they kept building on it, making it bigger and bigger.

How immature.

As he made his way to the front door, he felt a snowball smack him on the arm.

Brendan turned around to spot who it had been and saw Cheryl standing the garden, smirking at him.

This was good. This meant that she was probably already over the whole ordeal.

He quickly moved and made a grab for some snow from the bushes and patted it into a ball and threw it at her, causing her to shriek and run from her spot. Brendan then began chasing her around the garden, trying to stuff snow down the back of her jacket.

After a long and intense battle, they both found themselves sitting in the back garden, a few footsteps away from an igloo, their backs rested against the wall of their house.

"So you're not angry at me anymore?" Brendan asked, breaking the silence.  
"Well," Cheryl began, her tone light and easy, "I spoke to Ste about it and he explained everything."  
Brendan felt everything turn cold.  
"What did he explain?" He asked, his teeth gritting.  
"That you two were just fooling around. Play wrestling and stuff... I guess I'm just not used to it, because we don't have another brother, and I don't really see you with your friends." She explained.  
"Yeah, yeah, okay." He replied, extremely relieved that that's what Steven had told her.

If she were to ever find out what had happened between them, she'd never want to speak to him again. No one he knew would.

"Cheryl," A voice exclaimed, as a person turned around the corner.  
"Ste!" Cheryl squealed and jumped up from his spot on the ground.

Brendan felt a lump stuck in his throat. He hadn't seen Steven since the day at Ste's house. It was as though the snow had suddenly melted, and Brendan found himself burning once again.

"We were just talking about you." Cheryl told him, her voice full of giggles.  
"Were you?" Ste asked, sneaking a glance at Brendan, who for only a short second held eye contact.

It was too much for him. He was in the same area and Ste and it felt like his whole world had stopped. Like time had stopped. He wanted to keep looking at him, to just watch as Ste moved around and spoke to Cheryl, with his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, smiles forming on his face, his eyes glinting.

But he stopped himself and looked at his feet instead.

"It was nothing really." Cheryl said, "I was just explaining why I wasn't angry at him anymore."  
Brendan, giving into temptation, looked up and saw as Ste's shoulders seemed to fall a bit.  
"Oh, okay." He replied, biting down on his bottom lip again.

And then Cheryl was pulling Ste by his arm and dragging him to the front garden, where the others had been. From what Brendan could hear, it sounded like most people had already vacated the area and had left.

He decided to satisfy his childish needs and moved into the igloo to see how successful it was. It was quite small and cramped in there, but roomy enough for at least three people.

Brendan began patting down the walls, trying to make it as sturdy as possible. He scooped some snow in his hands and pushed it down into the areas that looked like they needed it. Once he had finished renovating, he rested his head against the wall, feeling slightly awkward because of the rounded shape of them.

Suddenly he heard movement outside and a head popped into the entrance.

"Can I come in?" Ste asked shyly.

Brendan found himself nodding.

"This is quite the place." Ste then said after he'd settled in, sitting next to Brendan, their shoulders touching slightly.  
"You'd have to compliment the fine architects out there then." Brendan explained, his eyes now wandering down to his legs, where his right thigh seemed to be pressed against Ste's left leg.

Ste smiled and then the igloo seemed to go quiet. The cuts on Ste's face seemed to have healed. His skin was flawless.

Brendan wasn't sure if it was because there was now one more one body in there with him, but it seemed to be getting hotter. He palms rubbed against each other with ease due to a small layer of sweat that was forming.

"About the other day," Ste started.  
"Don't." Brendan warned, his tone still calm and unprotected.  
"I just…" Ste started, his expression falling. His eyes were wide and looked full of pain.  
"Don't," Brendan seemed to beg, his voice getting low.

And suddenly Ste's palm was resting gently against Brendan's cheek.  
"_Don't…_" Brendan repeated, his voice now weak and yielding.  
"_Please_," Ste whispered under his breath, and his turned Brendan's face to face him.

Ste's breath was warm against Brendan's skin. Brendan felt his own eyes move down and focus on Ste's lips. Biting. Ste gently tugged on his own bottom lip.

Brendan didn't know whether he had started it, or if Ste had started it, but suddenly their lips were pressed against each other. Brendan felt himself gently pulling at Ste's bottom lip with his own, then taking it between his teeth. Their tongues then seemed to move rhythmically against each other. Open, wet and willing.

Ste then moved and sat with his knees on either side on Brendan's thighs. Ste grunted as he hit his head against the roof of the igloo. Brendan felt himself laugh. Ste pouted then moved in to replace Brendan's smile by his lips.

Instinctively, Brendan's hands began pulling on Ste's hips, trying to get him closer.

Suddenly his hands seemed to wander everywhere. He needed to feel him. His shaking hands moved under the back of Ste's jacket, pawing at his soft skin, as Ste's mouth continued to move against his.

Brendan felt something poking against his lower stomach and realised that it was Steven.

He should've been grossed out. He should've been disgusted by it.

But instead it felt like it shot straight to his own cock, making him throb under all his layers of clothes and Steven.

Brendan suddenly pulled himself away from Ste's mouth and moved his head to Ste's neck, gently sucking on the skin there, before pulling away again and letting his mouth rest against the side of Ste's head.

"_Fucking hell…_" He managed to whisper into Ste's ear, his voice now raspy and unconstrained.


	13. Chapter 13

**Just wanted to say I'm sorry really quickly for not having updated in a while. I was really busy, then was sick, and couldn't find the motivation to write while feeling like shoite. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and that it's worth the wait.**

* * *

Brendan's hands, with a mind of their own, were rubbing the warm skin under the numerous layers of Ste's clothing. His lips were still pressed against Ste's neck. He felt the erratic racing of Ste's pulse as he gently sucked his skin.

Brendan had never felt so animalistic before. So raw, so intense. Without having to think, his body seemed to speak for him.

He somehow moved his hands and was now pressing himself even closer to Ste. He needed to feel more of him. Ste grabbed the collar of Brendan's coat and pressed their lips against each other's again. Ste's mouth was warm, wet and willing.

Then Brendan was grabbing Ste's hand and pulling it down. Moving it towards his cock. He just needed to be touched there. Grabbed, squeezed, held.

Like in his dream. He needed it.

Ste began unbuckling Brendan's belt with shaking hands. It seemed like it was taking too long, and Brendan was impatient, so he grabbed hold of the buckle and undid it quickly.

Once the pathway seemed to be cleared, Ste hesitated a bit, sitting back on the heels of his shoes and biting his lip. He looked to irresistible and Brendan sighed in frustration.

Brendan tried to urge him with his eyes. He _needed_ this.

After a moment, Ste seemed to regain confidence and dove his hand under the elastic of Brendan's boxers, finding his hard cock, and taking hold of it.

Brendan felt himself gasp a little. Ste's had was electric on him. His dream had felt like ecstasy, but now it felt like he'd had that times a million. It was just so real and visceral.

Ste's hand began pumping up and down and Brendan found himself whimpering slightly. His muscles felt weak and his entire body was burning.

His hands were clenching fists around the back of Ste's jacket as he heavily breathed him in, before pulling Ste's face towards his and kissing him again.

All of a sudden his thought process was interrupted by a girly squeal coming from outside the igloo in the garden.

The two boys both jumped and Ste quickly pulled his hand out of Brendan's boxers, and jumped off of him. Brendan felt the coldness seem to sweep over his body at the loss of Ste's warm touch.

He looked down and quickly did up his belt, barely able to get his hands to function.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Brendan said completely panicking.

What had he been thinking? Anyone could just peek inside the igloo and see what they were doing. Anyone!

And what if they had seen them? Then they'd think Brendan was some dirty queer. But he wasn't.

And he couldn't have people thinking shit like that of him.

Brendan looked a saw Ste struggling to adjust his clothes, his hands still shaking. Brendan couldn't deal with this.

"Forget what happened." Brendan said, being startled by the sound of his own voice after all that had just happened.

He moved to the entrance and climbed out to the now empty yard.

Brendan heard Ste exiting the igloo, so he quickly went to the front of the garden and entered his house, shaking off any snow as he took off his winter gear. No matter how many layers he peeled off, he couldn't seem to shake off the feeling of Ste against him. The way his lips seemed to move in-sync with his own. The back and forth motion of Ste's hand on his dick. Brendan felt himself twitch just thinking about it.

The thoughts needed to stop. He needed to replace the taste of Ste's lips against his own.

He found the box stowed away in his father's study. The room gave him the fucking creeps, but he needed this right now. And his father wasn't home. So he wouldn't have to be afraid. Brendan opened the box and pulled one of the short sticks out. He gently closed the box and placed it back exactly where he'd found it.

The house was quiet. Those who were still left of Cheryl's friends were still all out in the yard, playing around in the snow.

Brendan left the study, making sure that he'd left everything in place. Never get caught. A rule for life.

He made his way to his room. Once he was there, he closed his door and propped his desk chair under the door handle to prevent anyone from entering. He'd gotten used to using this method when he was younger. Since he didn't have a lock on his door at least. No one could really enter without his permission. Or at least that's what he'd tried.

Brendan moved to the frosted window and pushed it open.

He pulled the cold, metallic lighter out of his pocket and lit his father's cigarette which was now between his lips.

He coughed a little at first, the taste of smoke feeling unfamiliar in his mouth and lungs.

But this was good. The taste of Steven was slowly being pushed out and replaced with the stronger taste of the smoke.

He blew the smoke outside his window, making sure that Blanaid wouldn't come into his room later and smell that he'd been smoking. Despite the fact that Seamus smoked, he'd be in huge trouble if either of them found out he had been smoking.

Not that he hadn't already faced some of the worst punishments…

Seamus was a fucking hypocrite. Brendan knew it, and it pissed him off beyond belief. If Brendan would get into fights, Seamus would get angry at him, but if Brendan came off as a wuss, he'd be angry as well.

Brendan started angrily inhaling the smoke of the cigarette deeper now, coughing a bit more.

Seamus would degrade anybody who was different, but he was a freak himself.

Brendan looked down and realised he'd finished the cigarette, and had only a very short bit still in his fingers. He took it out his mouth and dabbed the hot end on the outside of his windowsill before dropping the cigarette butt down onto the snow below.

The taste of Ste was now entirely gone from his mouth, unfortunately he couldn't smoke away his thoughts.

* * *

It had been a few hours before Blanaid and Seamus were home again. Brendan took the time wisely and read some more of Macbeth.

Macbeth was a essentially a crazy man. A man who wanted the power, but when it came down to it all, he was weak. He let his demons get to him and he broke. He lost everything he'd fought for, because he wasn't strong enough. Not in the physical sense, but emotionally, or mentally.

Brendan took this as a lesson. What he'd done was just in the past. It was weird. And not him. Of course it wasn't him. He was with Eileen. And even better, he was happy with Eileen. He was a king, and she was his queen. Every great king needs a beautiful queen to walk alongside him as he conquers new land.

Brendan was lying on his bed when Cheryl came into his room.

"Hey Brendan." She said quietly.  
"Chez…" Brendan said, not lifting his eye from the page. He was at an intense spot.  
"How are you?"

He frowned. Why was she asking stuff like this?

"I'm fine. What about you?" Brendan asked in response.  
"I'm glad you asked," Cheryl said, "I think I like someone and I'm not sure what to do. You're a guy, what would you want a girl to do?"  
"What guy is this?" Brendan said, his tone angrier now.

No guys should be messing around with his sister. She was still a little girl. In his mind at least.

"Is that really important?" Cheryl groaned.  
"Is it…" The name twisted about in his mind, "Steven?"

Cheryl suddenly burst out laughing. She _laughed_.

"What?" Brendan snapped.  
"Why would I like Ste?!" She asked, as though the notion was completely ridiculous.  
"I don't know…" Brendan quickly responded, his face turning red. A million reasons why went racing through his mind. Steven's smile, his laugh, the way he pouted, his stubbornness. But that wasn't normal. Steven was just a friend. No, an acquaintance.  
"Ste's just a friend!" Cheryl reiterated.  
"Okay, so who is?"  
"Don't get angry at me," She began, shrinking against his closet, "It's Eoin."

Eoin? Why on Earth would Cheryl like Eoin? And he was interested in Lynsey. They'd gone to the party together. Not Cheryl.

"And what about Lynsey?" Brendan asked.  
"They were on for a bit, but they're not anymore." Cheryl said, nodding her head as if trying to persuade Brendan that it would be alright for her to go for Eoin.  
"Just don't go for guys like that. They only ever want one thing."

Cheryl turned red knowing what Brendan was implying.

"Okay, well," She started, already turning towards his door, "I'll see you later."

Brendan loved his sister with all his heart, but he knew that she had a terrible taste in men.

* * *

School had never seemed to go slower. Every tick of the clocks, hanging loosely above the doors of the classrooms, were like heavy pendulums, going back on forth with deep mesmerising movements.

Brendan couldn't focus in class. He was distracted. For some reason these days he could never just pay attention. His mind was always somewhere else. On someone else. Especially now that he was in biology. Nothing bored him more than a lesson about reproduction. Every single person in that class had already had sex and gone through it all. There was no need for this.

"If people don't use protection, they are at the risk of getting what?" The teacher asked the class, waiting for a response he was never going to receive.  
People looked outside the windows, down at their papers, at the walls, anywhere to avoid eye contact with the teacher.  
"No one?" He sighed, "STDs. They're at the risk of getting sexually transmitted diseases."

Lessons like these made Brendan feel uneasy. They were just too blatant. Too in your face.

"Can anyone name some STDs?"  
"I'm sure Orin can." One of the girls in the back of the classroom said loudly, causing an uproar in the classroom.  
The teacher smiled, but it was obvious from his glinting eyes that he'd found it funny as well.  
"Orin?" The teacher asked.  
"AIDS." Orin said, ignoring his fellow classmate's remark.  
"Good," The teacher said, "Now AIDS is more common among homosexual men."

Brendan heard some of the students in the class chuckle. Were they laughing at him?

He felt his face burning red. No one knew what he had done. He wasn't gay. He wasn't a queer.

The walls seemed to be closing in around Brendan. His collar seemed to be too tightly done around his neck. What if Ste had told someone what had happened? What if rumours were now spreading and people were saying that Brendan was queer? He wasn't a fucking queer.

He needed to get away. He needed to talk to Steven.

Brendan picked up his bag, got up and moved towards the door, prompting his teacher to ask him where he was going.

"I feel sick." Brendan mumbled before he left through the door, not waiting for his teacher to respond.

* * *

Finding a guy like Ste was harder than Brendan had expected. He'd searched the cafeteria, the outside grounds, and he didn't know where else to look. Suddenly the bell rang and Brendan realised that he'd been stupid, because obviously Ste had been in class.

There were five minutes between the last class and the next one. He didn't have much time. Brendan moved swiftly through the hallways, trying to locate Ste among the crowds of teenagers.

Outside of one of the maths classes Brendan spotted Steven from behind, his hair easily recognisable. Brendan didn't want to call out to Ste in case people heard him and thought something about it, so he dodged in between people and got close enough to Ste to pull him aside and tell him they needed to talk.

Brendan moved through the hallways heading to the side exit doors with Ste tagging behind him. This reminded him of the night of of the party. With Ste chasing after him through the entire house. Had Ste just left him alone none of this shit would've happened. Brendan wouldn't be in this fucked up situation.

Once they got outside Brendan pulled Ste into a small alleyway, making sure no one was anywhere near them.

Ste looked up at Brendan with wide eyes, biting his bottom lip again.

_Fuck_. Why did he have to do that?

Brendan tore his eyes away.

"What is it, Brendan?" Ste asked, his voice soft and open.  
Brendan sighed and tried to say the things he'd planned to say. _I'm not a queer. There's nothing going on between us. Stop looking at me that way. Stop._ But nothing seemed to be leaving his mouth.

Ste took his silence as an invitation and reached out and took hold of Brendan's hand, carefully slipping his fingers into the cracks between Brendan's fingers. Somehow their hands seemed to fit. Like two puzzle pieces.

The alley seemed so closed and private. Brendan started feeling it again. That swelling in his chest. The constricting. The tightening. It was too much.

He pulled his hand away as though he'd been burnt.

"What is it?" Ste asked, his face suddenly turning down.

Brendan couldn't look at him right now. He didn't want to see his face. He couldn't handle it.

"What the fuck do you think this is?!" Brendan snapped, his teeth beginning to grit.  
"I don't know…" Ste started, confusion beginning to overtake his face, "I just know that I like you, and I think you like me too."

_Like?_ What was Ste even thinking?

"I'm not a fucking queer." Brendan said, each word hanging heavily in the air between them.  
Ste's face then seemed to switch. Suddenly there wasn't sorrow or confusion on his face. Now there was anger. Or something of that sort.  
"What and you didn't get hard from me touching you?" Ste asked, his eyebrows forming a frown.  
"No." Brendan replied angrily, unable to justify himself.  
"And your heart doesn't start racing if I do something like this?" Ste dared as he moved forward and put his hand against Brendan's chest.

Brendan's heart was now racing. It was probably just the anger.

"No." Brendan responded, trying not to add any emotion whatsoever to his tone.  
"Not even when I do this?" Ste asked as he moved his hand down from Brendan's chest to his groin, where Brendan could feel himself twitching.

He wasn't going to play this game.

"Fuck off you dirty, little queer!" Brendan flipped as he put both his arms out and pushed Ste against the wall, causing a thud. Ste frustratedly began readjusting his shirt and patting down the back of his head.

"You're just too much of a coward to admit who you are!" Ste shouted as Brendan turned and started walking away, his blood boiling.

Who the fuck did he think he was?!

Brendan snapped and turned back and grabbed Ste's collar, banging him against the wall again. His fist was now raised and he was ready to knock some sense into Ste.

Then it clicked inside him. He was being _that_ monster.

Brendan suddenly dropped his fist by his waist and turned and ran as fast as he could.

* * *

When he'd gotten home, it was still early and no one else was home. Blanaid's car was parked in the driveway, but she was nowhere to be found. She must've walked into town to meet up with some friends or run some errands.

Brendan found himself frustratedly pacing around the house, unsure of what to do. He found himself by the front door again and looked down to his right. Tossed carelessly on the side table were the keys. Keys to the garage, keys to the shed, keys to the house, and the keys to Blanaid's car.

He knew if he would go through with what he was burning to do, he'd been in major shit. But right now, he couldn't care less.

His fingers easily picked up the keys and before he could stop himself, he was opening the car, climbing inside and revving the engine.

Brendan's hands were shaking slightly as he pulled out of the driveway. The car was in a rough condition, but what could he do about it? Make the most of what you've got.

As Brendan continued driving to an undecided location, the houses stopped looking familiar. He had reached a point where he was no longer in a place where everyone knew who he was. Where everyone was always judging him. He was taking a stand now and he was free.

The moment Brendan hit the highways, he hit the gas pedal and took off. He wasn't playing games now. With every frustration jumping up in his mind, the pedal was pressed more and more.

After being on the road for about two hours, Brendan had finally reached a place where he decided to pull over.

Brendan opened the door and walked slowly left the car, carefully observing his surroundings. In front of where he'd parked the car, there was a massive body of water. Was it a sea? An ocean? Brendan wasn't sure. But it didn't really matter.

It reminded him of something.

_Someone_.

Brendan moved to the deserted pier and sat down on the wooden panels, hoping they'd be able to support him. He dangles his feet above the water and stuck his hands deep into his jacket pockets. Brendan was surprised he was able to even withstand this weather. Maybe he'd just become numb to it all.

The water swayed below his feet. The wind was sharp and blew Brendan's hair. Brendan coughed and looked up out at the vast body of water.

_"Don't go so close to the water Brendan!" She shouted, grabbing his new coat and pulling him back._  
_"I won't fall in!" Brendan replied, craving to be reckless._  
_"Always wanting to rebel." She chuckled, wrapping her arms around Brendan._  
_"Nah…" He replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible._  
_"My little rebel." She smiled._

_Brendan pretended to try and escape her grasp, but eventually caved in and let her embrace him. He felt safe. Protected. No one could hurt him as long as he was safely wrapped in her arms._

A seagull squawked and Brendan snapped out of his trance.

He shuddered and rubbed his eyes, which had somehow blurred his vision.

That was the past.

The past was gone and nothing he would do would bring it back. All he had were the memories. The memories that came and went. There were times when the only solace he had was when he lived in the past. Tried to emotionally recreate that time. A time when he was safe. A time when he thought he could be anyone if he set his mind to it. Back when life was simple. Black and white.

Brendan stood up and turned back towards the car. He couldn't handle staying here. Reliving things that were too painful.

* * *

Somehow Brendan had ended up in a pub, still hours away from home. All the faces in this place were unknown to him. And better yet, no one knew his face.

It was warm inside the pub. Much warmer than the pier and Blanaid's car, which only had a cheap excuse of a heating system. Brendan was sitting at the bar and was on his third glass of whiskey. Nothing seemed to heat him up like a glass or whiskey. Or two. Or three. However many he needed.

His stomach was feeling warm and fuzzy and he felt light again. The last time he'd been feeling this way, he hadn't had to drink anything.

But he wasn't supposed to think of that either.

There were a few locals sitting in the pub, talking to each other through slurred words. The was a lad sitting down at the other end of the bar, who seemed to be trying to make eye contact with Brendan.

Brendan wasn't interested in a fight tonight. He was tired. He was so fucking tired.

When Brendan was on his fourth glass of whiskey the lad seemed to be smiling and laughing. He looked familiar. Or at least he resembled someone Brendan knew. But the thoughts were too scrambled for Brendan to properly put a name to the face.

Once he finished the whiskey, Brendan stood up. He walked over to the guy, before asking the guy if he had some cigarettes.

The lad nodded and stood up, guiding Brendan towards the door of the pub. Brendan slowly followed behind him, his body seeming to shake.

It was extremely cold outside, but the cigarette would warm Brendan up. Or something would. The lad led Brendan to the alleyway behind the pub, and pulled two cigarettes out, followed by a lighter.

Brendan slipped the cigarette in between his lips and used the lighter to light it up. He then lit the other guy's cigarette up as well.

The lad didn't seem to say anything, just kept looking at Brendan in the darkness of the alleyway.

After Brendan was fed up with the cigarette he threw it to the ground and pressed his heel into the glowing end.

The edge didn't seem to have been taken off by the cigarette. His chest now felt as though it was about to burst. His hands were shaking.

Brendan looked up at the guy and saw that he had finished his cigarette as well.

The next thing Brendan knew, he was pressing his body close against the guy, and kissing him.

Suddenly Brendan felt a push against his chest and he was being thrown off. He stumbled and fell onto the cold ground.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" The lad shouted, his voice loud and filled with rage.  
"I…" Brendan mumbled.  
His mind was racing. What was he doing? What had he been thinking?  
"Do you think I'm some fucking faggot?!" The lad was yelling.

Then there were more men. Pouring out of the pub.

"What's going on?" One man asked inquisitively.  
"This faggot tried to kiss me!" The lad replied, his body seemingly ready to attack.

The crowd seemed to be getting closer and closer to Brendan. He couldn't handle this. He had to get away.

Brendan scrambled to his feet and bolted. He had to get to the car. He had to get away.

Luckily he hadn't parked too far away from the pub, and he was easily able to get to it, despite his current state. The keys jangled and he couldn't seem to fit the right one into the door.

There were men running behind him, yelling. _Queer. Faggot. Poof._

He finally got the door open and stuck the key into the ignition. Thankfully the car started up on time and Brendan was racing off down the street. He had to get home. Had to leave the place where people had discovered something about him no one should know.

They knew of his dark side.

* * *

The roads seemed to be winding and never ending. The night had settled in and Brendan found himself driving in the shadows, his weak headlights barely making a difference. No other cars had seemed to cross him so far. The roads were his alone.

His mind was in a million different places and he couldn't think straight. He still felt muddled. The image of the lad at the pub kept replaying his Brendan's mind. The way his eyes had widened and suddenly turned cold. Filled with poison and rage. The lad had been ready to beat Brendan to pulp. He had no mercy.

Then there was Steven. His laugh. His smile. Every stupid little thing. What a little fucker. It make Brendan want to scream.

And then he was.

He was screaming and yelling inside the car, as he raced down the road. He yelled at the top of his lungs.

Suddenly he saw some headlights coming up in front of him.

Were these the lights at the end of his dark tunnel?

Was he finally going to go to a better place?

Brendan felt so dizzy and unaware.

Suddenly Brendan felt a strong blast. Bright colours seemed to flash in front of Brendan's eyes. A screech filled the air. A heat seemed to curl against Brendan's skin.

And then there was darkness.


	14. Chapter 14

_"Brendan!" She yelled from the kitchen._  
_"Yeah, I'm coming." Brendan replied in his high-pitched voice._  
_"Don't forget the blankets!" She said._

_Brendan simply nodded in response, entirely aware that she would have no idea if he was nodding or not. He ran around the family room gathering the largest blankets he could find. _

_Today they were going on a picnic._

_The sun was shining outside and it felt like they were on top of the world. Brendan had made sure to pack the red, thin blanket he sometimes used as his cape. She told him he was too immature, but he didn't care. She didn't understand what superheroes had to do. No one really understands superheroes. When all else lose hope, that's when a superhero comes in. That's when they save the day._

* * *

All he could remember was the burning sensation. Then once the darkness had settled, he remembered hearing screaming. He remembered how cold the ground felt. He remembered wondering how he'd ended up on the ground. He remembered the sound of sirens. He remembered voices, discussing loudly and with panic about what could be done.

He didn't feel like his body and mind were in the same place. Brendan felt as though he'd been floating. Soaring high above everything else. Observing from some strange third perspective.

Brendan felt as though he had been traveling through time. Going over and over the different experiences. He felt so damn fucked up.

After a few hours his mind seemed to clear a bit. The dripping of the IV was more distinct. The constant pulsating beeping of a machine seemed to echo. But Brendan wasn't ready to open his eyes yet.

He was tired. He needed more rest.

* * *

_The storm was back again. Brendan was getting bigger, but storms like these, on nights like these, never ceased to scare him. He found himself cowering under his bed sheet covers, praying to God, to please stop the thunder, the lightening and everything else terrible with it._

_"Having trouble sleeping?" A warm and gentle voice spoke out from the doorway of Brendan's bedroom._  
_"Just a little…" Brendan mumbled in response. He didn't want to seem like a wuss._

_She slowly drifted over to his bed and sat down next to him. She took hold of the covers, which Brendan had managed to twist awkwardly around his body, and shook them. When the large creases were gone, she took the sheets and tucked them around either side of Brendan's stomach, making him feel snug._

_"It's just a storm." She whispered as she pulled him into a hug, gently rubbing his sweaty forehead._

_Brendan nodded in response. _

_He wasn't sure when he'd drifted off to sleep, or when she had gone, but when he woke up the next morning, the storm was gone, and he heard her singing in the kitchen._

* * *

"Brendan," He heard a soft voice croak, "I need you…"

It was Cheryl.

I'm here. Brendan tried to say. But somehow his voice was blocked. He couldn't get her to hear it. He was silenced.

Brendan felt his wrist heat up and fingers seemed to curl around his thin wrist. Where was his watch? He wanted to look, but he felt too weak. He couldn't manage to look.

* * *

_He was scared. He never liked ending up in these situations. _

_Seamus was here. _

_For several years Seamus had been gone, off with his new wife, and Brendan was hurt by it everyday. He was young, but he was old enough to know what it felt like when the other boys talked about their fathers. How they'd play sports with them, how they'd teach them to fix a bicycle, how they'd let them sit on their lap and drive their car. Brendan was envious of them. Of their fathers._

_Because somehow whenever Seamus was here, Brendan knew that Seamus would never be that type of father. He wouldn't be the type of father to talk to him when he was feeling down. What Brendan knew, was that Seamus was the type of father who would take pride if their son did something manly. Something that really distinguished them as superior. As greater than the rest._

_Brendan was hiding behind the door as Seamus spoke to her._  
_"Seamus, we need the money." She said anxiously._  
_"I've given you enough." Seamus said in response, raising his voice slightly._  
_"Don't you want your son to do well?" She asked._  
_"My son doesn't need pity money to get by. He needs to learn to be a man and cope on his own." _  
_"He's just a child!" She said far more frantically this time._

_Brendan heard Seamus simply snort in response. _

_His footsteps began approaching the door, and Brendan jumped to the stairs, where he sat down, pretending to browse through a newspaper. Seamus turned and nodded at Brendan as he walked towards the door._

_Brendan watched as Seamus walked out the door without looking back once._

* * *

Brendan remembered more footsteps entering his room. He remembered hearing the familiar sound of Seamus' shoes against the ground. An all too familiar sound. He heard the dangling of bangles around Blanaid's wrist. And he heard a tapping of some sort. Against some kind of cardboard. A clipboard. Probably.

"Mr, Mrs Brady, I'm afraid I have some bad news," One of the voices spoke.  
The voice was deep and calm. Soothing almost.

It must be a doctor, Brendan thought. Who else could it be?

"Your son," The voice slowly continued, "He's in a coma."

Brendan's felt like his pulse had stopped. He was in a coma. A coma. Brendan heard Blanaid gasp and Seamus clear his throat. Where was Cheryl? The doctor and Seamus carried on discussing certain things, and Brendan seemed to become fazed out.

All different thoughts came rushing to Brendan's mind. What would happen if he were to die? Was he going to be stuck as a voice no one but himself could hear forever? He was too young for this. He hadn't had a chance to live. He hadn't graduated high school, he hadn't had the option to go to university, he hadn't yet experienced what it was like to run into an ocean, clothes in the sand, he hadn't experienced flying over the Atlantic Ocean. But worst of all, Brendan wasn't sure if he'd ever really felt what it was like to be happy. To be so carelessly happy. Not since he was little, at least.

Brendan wanted to panic and scream out loud, but he couldn't. He was trapped in his useless, immobile body. Limp with no movement, with no ability to wink an eye.

The minutes seemed to drag on. And soon the minutes turned to hours and the hours turned to days. He was a carcass with an infinitely running mind. There was all the time in the world to relive the trivial things in life.

For some reason, the same image seemed to keep popping into his mind. The blonde boy. The way he'd made Brendan feel so alive. His touch was electric against Brendan's skin. He'd never experienced anything else like it. Had Brendan been happy then? Was it happiness he'd felt when he had Ste pressed close to his body? Was it happiness he'd felt when Ste grabbed onto him and seemed to squeeze and make Brendan feel powerful?

But even worse, Brendan felt guilt. He felt guilty as hell for being such an inconsiderate dick to him. For making Ste's eyes fill with sorrow. Brendan kept seeing the way Ste's face had fallen. Time after time after time. It hurt. It hurt more than this prison he was in. It hurt more than the strong blast he'd felt in the accident. It hurt more than so much he'd gone through.

* * *

_Brendan was confused. And he was tired. He had spent hours waiting up for her to come home. Waiting for her to tuck him into bed and kiss his cheek. He felt like a child, but he needed it. Otherwise it'd be a cold, dark night. _

_But the hours had dragged on and she never showed up. She had said she was only going to be gone for a few hours. She had promised that she'd be home to tuck him in. _

_She had promised._

_The next morning Brendan woke to an empty house. His frantic shouts seemed to bounce off the walls. The hollow halls were never ending, and Brendan felt lost in his own home. _

_After scavenging through the house, Brendan had found some phone numbers and began calling, one after the other. But no one seemed to know where she was. No one knew. _

_She had just disappeared. Vanished._

* * *

"I know," Brendan was pulled out of his train of thought and listened in, "I know we've been through some shit…"

Steven. It was Steven.

"But you can't just up and leave. Not now."

His voice was desperate. He was urging, begging. Brendan felt a warmth spread over his hand. He wanted to open his eyes and see Steven. See his face in all his fullness, and just tell him he was here. Tell him that everything was going to be alright. But his voice was still lost. The outside of Brendan's body was numb, but it didn't stop the fire inside him. The burning of every nerve ending as Ste's fingers seemed to caress his. If he could control himself, Brendan wasn't sure if he'd squeeze back, or if he'd let go and push him away.

What if someone were to walk in? What if Cheryl were to walk in? Or worst of all, what if Seamus were to walk in? He'd without a doubt get into a fight with Brendan's useless body, not caring if there were no fight left in him. Or he'd go after Steven. Poor, blue eyed Steven.

"I need you to fight." Steven mumbled, his voice almost stifled, by what seemed to be sobs.

His hand was shaking against Brendan's eerily still hand.

"For Cheryl," Ste said, gaining a bit more confidence, "She needs you. What would she do without her brother? She might not say it much to you, but she loves you so much. The way she talks about you just amazes me. In her eyes you're a hero. You're a saint that could do nothing wrong."

Brendan felt like snorting in response to that. Of course she got mad at him. Only just recently she'd been complaining about him being a tool to Ste. He was no saint in her eyes. He was still a demon. Like he was in everyone else's eyes.

"You're just so young. You have so much to fight for…"

Sure Ste was one to talk. It sounded almost ridiculous hearing him say that. Brendan was older than Ste was. And Ste didn't know the half of what Brendan had been going through for years. He didn't know what it was like to fear life. To feel endangered almost everywhere. Because the worst monster of them all was himself.

But Ste was a good person. He had also gone through some bad stuff, Brendan knew that. He remembered the bruising on Ste's face. Terry. Terry had done it to him. Made him hurt. But Ste… It only made him stronger. It only made him fight harder. They were just battle wounds on an almighty soldier.

"I've got to go now." Ste said reluctantly.

Brendan instinctively tried to call out. But nothing came out.

He felt Ste slowly releasing his grip from Brendan's hand. Brendan desperately wanted to pull him back. He needed to have him close. To feel his breath against his. Maybe they'd continue from where they'd left off in the igloo. His lips pressed to the skin of Ste's neck. His breathing erratic. His voice strained as he let out groans like an animal. Pressing Ste's body. Getting close. Feeling him. Then maybe this time he'd be the one to really make the move. Make Ste feel good. Because he needed to see that glimmering in Ste's eyes.

But after a few moments there was only a cold air surrounding his body.

Nothing but the quiet room remained, with only the beeping of the machine and the dripping of the IV.

* * *

_"Brendan, I'm sorry, but she's gone." The woman said._

_She looked like she really was sorry, but Brendan didn't feel like it was sincere. He didn't want to feel like it was sincere. No one understood what he was going through. What it felt like to be abandoned. What it felt like to have the one thing you love taken away from you. _

_"I know you might not know me too well, but hopefully you'll get to know me better. And maybe, one day, we can even be friends." She continued._

_Brendan sighed and frowned. He didn't want to know the woman, let alone become 'friends'. He didn't need her._

_"Just give me a chance, alright? Or if not for me, for Cheryl. She's made up to have her brother around."_

_What was he going to do with a sister anyway? He had never asked for any of this. He had never asked to be stranded and left with some random, clingy, little girl. _

_For days Brendan had locked himself away in his bedroom, trying to just block out all the pain. Thinking that maybe if he closed his eyes hard enough, time would simply be reversed. That he'd be home again. That he wouldn't be in this random house with these people who felt more like strangers than family. _

_But it didn't work. He'd open his eyes and still be in the same place. His heart still ached the same way. His stomach still felt queasy and he constantly felt like throwing up. He couldn't keep meals down. He couldn't sleep through the night. He couldn't function properly._

_Brendan thought he couldn't possibly feel more alone than he ever had until they made him go to school. No one could understand him. No one understood why such a young boy seemed to be filled with so much hurt. So he lashed out. He lashed out and made enemies. He was young, but it didn't stop him from doing bad things. He would be rude to the teachers. He'd talk back, he'd spit, he'd be vicious and nasty to people. It's just what he had to do to get by._

_After several months it seemed like he was in a bad place. _

_One day Seamus came into his room. Brendan had been particularly bad that day in school. The teachers had informed him that his parents would be getting a call. _

_Seamus turned the door handle and locked the door. _

_Brendan wasn't sure what was happening. _

_His heart began racing and his palms were sweating. The walls were closing in._

_Before he could do anything, he was being hit and bruised. His body was being pummeled, and there was nothing his tiny body could do to defend himself._

_That night he'd cried himself to sleep, rocking back a forth, hoping and praying that this was the only time it would ever happen to him._


	15. Chapter 15

**Just a quick moment to say thank you to everyone who's reviewed. I love reading 'em and treasure 'em. **

* * *

The lights were too bright. It made Brendan feel dizzy. He couldn't tell which way was up and which way was down. His head was just in a mess. As he furrowed his brow and squinted his eyes, his surroundings started to become clear. The room was bleach white and empty. All that was in the room was the bed he was lying on and a little side table. The beeping of the machine was still continuing. Throughout his long sleep and now that he was finally up. It never seemed to end. A lifeline maybe.

Suddenly a nurse came rushing into his room and began asking him questions to see what kind of a state he was in. Brendan knew what year it was, he knew his name and the names of his family members. He remembered what city he lived in, and he remembered what school he went to. They didn't ask, but he remembered all the other small details. He remembered the alcohol buzzing throughout his body, he remembered the electricity he'd felt when he tried to kiss the guy, closing his eyes and picturing Steven. He remembered the nights he sat up in bed, praying that Seamus wouldn't be in a bad mood. Praying that he'd be able to sleep soundly.

After about an hour the rest of Brendan's family had arrived. Cheryl, Blanaid and Seamus. No one else cared enough to come visit him.

"I thought you were gone for good." Cheryl whispered in between sobs as she pulled him into a deep embrace.

Brendan thought about telling her that he'd heard everything she had said. But maybe that wasn't actually what he'd heard. Maybe he'd just imagined it all. So he didn't say anything, just held her back. He was here now.

Throughout the day his three family members worked on a rotation, talking to Brendan slowly as though he'd somehow damaged his brain. Blanaid and Cheryl were anxious versions of their bubbly selves, and Seamus was simply Seamus. When Brendan was stuck alone in the room with him, Seamus took a seat in a chair that had been pulled in earlier. He just sat there, casually looking out the window, fiddling with his hands and trying to read a newspaper. But he didn't say anything to Brendan. He didn't ask him how exactly he'd ended up that way. He didn't tell him he was glad Brendan survived. He just didn't say anything.

By the end of the day Brendan had learnt that he'd been out for a week and a half. In two days it was going to be Christmas. Cheryl said it was a 'Christmas Miracle' that Brendan had woken up in time. But it was just human nature. Nothing about it was a miracle.

Brendan wasn't looking forward to going back home. Not now. Despite having slept for days on end, he was tired. He never seemed to feel fully awake these days, even before the accident. He was always half asleep, and during the night he was always half awake.

When Christmas Eve came, Brendan was allowed to go back home. He'd gotten a few visitors in the morning when he arrived back from the hospital. Eoin, Orin and Lynsey. They'd awkwardly stood by the door asking Brendan if he was alright. They didn't really want to know the answer though. No one ever did. Those questions are always half-assed. The more they knew, the more they had to get involved. The more they felt they are obliged to get involved. So Brendan only gave them half-assed responses. _Yeah, I'm good. Top notch. As good as it gets._

When nighttime hit and everyone was buried deep in their bed, Brendan couldn't help but feel as though something was missing. He was alive. He was safe. But he still felt like he was in that coma. Brendan couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't gotten that visitor. The one who had visited him every night in his dreams. The one who had come one time while he was in his deep sleep.

Why hadn't he visited Brendan now that he was awake?

Brendan tried to push back the question that kept forcing its way to the tip of his tongue. He should't be curious. He shouldn't be craving to know. He shouldn't. Because what he'd done with Steven had just been a mistake. A moment of weakness. That was it. Nothing more and nothing less.

* * *

It was Christmas morning and the spirit was uplifting in the Brady household. Cheryl had been running around the house making sure every single person was awake so she could open her presents.

Brendan dragged himself out of bed, not necessarily looking forward to the day. When he was younger Christmas was always one of his favourite holidays. It was his chance to be young and careless, and rip open gift wrap, tearing away until his eyes were feasted upon the gift he'd been waiting months for. In the evening she always used to make a wonderful elaborate dinner. They'd have roast turkey and many other delicate treats that Brendan could no longer remember the names of. But the tastes still lingered in his mouth.

But since he'd gone to Seamus, Christmas had changed. He found himself on edge throughout the entire day, dreading the moment when Seamus had had just too much to drink. When he'd lose control. When he'd go mad. When Brendan would bury himself deep under his covers and sob to himself, muffling his own sounds with his duvet.

"Brendan, hurry your fat bum up!" Cheryl squealed as she stomped down the stairs.

He quickly put on some tracksuit bottoms and a white t-shirt, before heading down the stairs himself. Once down there he saw that Seamus and Blanaid were already showered and cleaned. He wasn't surprised. They always liked to go down earlier.

"We're glad we have you back in our arms." Blanaid said as she delicately pulled Brendan into a warm embrace.

Though his body was still sore, Brendan had recovered for the most part he'd. But Brendan knew it wouldn't be long before he somehow managed to get injured again. Before he'd be wearing baggy clothes and sunglasses to cover up some bruise he'd picked up on the way.

"Open my gift!" Cheryl said eagerly as she jumped up, a small perfectly wrapped parcel in her hands.  
"Sure." Brendan cracked a smile. His sister was something special.

Brendan carefully unwrapped the gift, making sure not to tear the paper. Once Brendan opened it, he saw that it was a box that could be opened. It almost looked like a jewelry box. What was he going to do with jewelry? Brendan continued and lifted the top part up, his mouth dropping once he saw what it was.

The silver chain was lopped several times. Brendan lifted it open, the metal feeling cold against his hands. Once he'd un-looped it, he saw the all too familiar silver crucifix. How had Cheryl gotten it?

She must've sensed his curiosity, because she nervously began explaining, "A few weeks ago I was looking through some boxes in the attic and found it. I considered giving it to you straight away, but I thought it might make a nice Christmas gift."

Brendan was speechless. He squeezed his fist tightly around the chain. He had to keep it safe.

"It was your mother's." Cheryl said, her lips still tight, as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

"I know." Brendan managed to utter. He'd immediately recognised it, thinking back to his earlier days. How the necklace would hang loosely around her neck.

Without thinking, Brendan pulled Cheryl into a hug.  
"Thank you." He whispered, his voice become unsteady.

Once they continued exchanging gifts, Brendan saw Seamus standing quietly against the kitchen doorframe, observing something in his hand. When Brendan saw the glint of silver reflect in the light of the room, he suddenly stormed over to Seamus, snatching the chain out of his hand.

"That's mine." Brendan snapped, feeling his blood begin to boil.  
"Calm your knickers boy," Seamus sneered, "I was only looking at your pretty jewelry."

Brendan pushed Seamus' harsh words to the back of his mind. He wasn't taking this moment away from him. Not now. He wasn't.

So Brendan undid the clasp on the chain and closed it around his neck before letting it hang loose under his t-shirt. The metal felt unfamiliar against his chest, but soon it would begin to feel more normal. It was a part of her he'd have. Now he still had a part of her wherever he'd go.

* * *

By the time it was dinner, Brendan had felt an odd sense of composure. Yet at the same time he was feeling anxious. He still couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't gotten a visit from Steven. Did he just not care that Brendan was alright? It hadn't felt that way when he'd visited him in the hospital. But how was Brendan one to judge after their previous exchange of words, when Brendan had thrown him against the wall and yelled, his body burning and his eyes wild.

His meal had seemed to settle oddly in his stomach. He was still hungry. Hungry for something else. For clarity. For a reason why he hadn't received a visit. Friends visit each other, don't they? They do. Eoin and Orin had visited Brendan. They'd spoken.

Before Brendan could stop himself, he was out of the front door, walking in the cold wind. He was a man with a goal. He'd get in there and just ask. Maybe he'd even apologise. Steven didn't deserve the way Brendan had treated him. It had only led to some desperate measures of acting out. Of doing things he now regretted. After one and a half week of being trapped and unable to speak, after a lifetime of being mentally trapped, he knew he had to somehow stop it. He had to speak out. Take blame for his actions. And hope Ste would still maybe want to be his friend. Because he wanted Ste to be his friend. Just a friend.

When Brendan arrived at Ste's house, he quickly moved around back and looked around, seeing who all was home. He had already decided that if Ste wasn't alone he'd leave. He didn't want Ste's parents to get the wrong idea of Brendan. Of he was. Of what he did.

He saw Ste sitting on the sofa with the lights of the television glowing on his face. Brendan felt a tug in his chest. A pull in his gut. Brendan lost his place in his thoughts. Ste just sat watching his programme, unaware of Brendan standing only a few steps away outside. His eyes looked red almost. His arms were folded against his chest. His skin still looked golden.

Suddenly Brendan snapped out of his thoughts and remembered what he was here to do. He moved to the front of the house and knocked on the door, waiting impatiently until the door opened in front of him.

Ste's eyes lit up for a brief moment before his face turned to a frown again.

"What are you doing here?" He said in an annoyed tone.  
"I, uh..." Brendan started, suddenly feeling like he was choking on his words.

Why was he finding it so difficult to just apologise? That was all his had to do. Two fucking syllables. So-rry. That was it.

"What?" Ste snapped, his frown deepening, "What do you want, Brendan?"

Ste began tapping his foot as if to tell Brendan to piss off. He looked angry, frustrated, or something like that. But it was almost endearing. The way he pouted. His nose upturned, and his eyes trying to stay angry and conceal his true expression. His teeth, still biting his bottom lip.

Brendan found himself pushing past Ste inside, and closing the door behind him.

Ste looked surprised. His eyes were wide and his chest began moving in and out quickly.

"What do you want?" He asked again, this time in a half whisper.

And suddenly as if an instinct, Brendan knew exactly what he wanted. He started walking towards Ste, causing Ste to stumble backwards until his back gently thumped against a wall. Brendan moved closer, his own breathing becoming erratic. Their chests were pressed up against each other, and Brendan felt so high. He saw as the blue of Ste's eyes began narrowing. Brendan's own eyes began lingering down to Ste's lips. They seemed to be shaking. Brendan took a deep breath in. The smell of Ste was so distinct and seemed to fill his lungs. Fresh but real. Nothing synthetic and fake about him. Brendan's body felt weak. Suddenly Brendan found himself moving his head towards Ste, slowly tilting his own head. Then his lips were pressed against Ste's. Soft, slightly moist and warm. He pulled back slowly, before moving in once more.

Ste's mouth seemed to dance against his, opening up, inviting Brendan's tongue to invade his mouth. To taste the inside of his mouth, to gently suck on Ste's pink tongue.

And then Brendan and Ste were quickening the pace.

Ste was pulling on Brendan's coat, slipping it over his shoulders and letting it drop onto the floor. Brendan moved his own hands under the soft fabric of Ste's t-shirt and felt Ste's burning skin against his own. He dragged his fingers along the contours of Ste's back, against his spine, as he continued to kiss Ste.

He pulled Ste's shirt quickly over his head, suddenly feeling cold in the brief moment where their lips were out of touch. Ste's skin was warm and flush against Brendan's clothed chest.

Ste suddenly laid his hands against Brendan's chest and pushed his back. Brendan looked up at Ste's eyes and watched, unsure, as Ste seemed to fiddle with the bottom of Brendan's shirt.

Brendan took the opportunity to look at Ste's chest. He didn't have defined muscle tone like most guys seemed to want to have, but somehow he still looked perfect. It just suited him. His stomach was flat, and had a few spots where there were patches of hair. Brendan felt his breath hitch as he looked down and saw the sparse trail of hairs leading down to his jeans.

Brendan's shirt was then being pulled over his over head, and he felt cold. But Ste began caressing Brendan's skin and pulling his close to his own warm body. Their bare chests were touching entirely, from bottom to top.

Brendan took Ste's chin between his right thumb and pointer finger and looked Ste in the eyes. His pupils were now entirely blown. Without another moment of hesitation, Brendan moved back in and pressed his lips against Ste, already feeling like he'd gone far too long without it. Then he felt his own hands working down Ste's chest, gently trailing along, leading to his pants. Brendan had been feeling the hardness against his own groin. Brendan unhooked the button at the top of Ste's jeans, and slowly pulled down the zipper. Once his zipper was down, Brendan plunged his hands down Ste's boxers and took hold of Ste's hardness, gasping in unison with Ste, their lips breaking apart for a few moments, before Brendan took control and continued kissing him.

He knew how he liked it and started doing to Ste what he often did to himself, those nights where he'd just felt too wired and couldn't sleep. He braced Ste and began moving his hand up and down, slowly at first, but then quickening the pace. He pressed his thumb against Ste's foreskin, causing Ste to groan into his mouth. It shot straight to Brendan's own growing hardness, his cock still trapped in the confines of his boxers and jeans.

Precum began oozing out of the tip of Ste's cock and it just quickened Brendan's pace as he pumped Ste's cock. Brendan could not longer hold himself and he grabbed Ste's hand and directed it towards his own cock. As Ste's hands lingered by Brendan's button and zipper, Brendan suddenly got a flashback of the igloo, and his cock twitched even more at the memory.

Suddenly his cock was freed and Ste was pulling on it. He was moving faster now, in-sync with Brendan's movements against Ste's cock.

They were both breathing heavily, now unable to keep kissing as their bodies began to unwind. Brendan felt his toes curling, and dropped his head to Ste's shoulder, breathing heavily into his neck as his hand moved quickly over Ste's cock.

And suddenly it was all too much. Brendan felt a wave of ecstasy as his breathing became wild and he moaned as he felt a release against his hand and he released into Ste's. He felt blinded and his knees fell weak.

Once they'd both seemed to somewhat regain their breath, Brendan pulled his cum covered hand out of Ste's boxers. He looked up at Ste as he moved his hand towards Ste's chest and rubbed the white cum into Ste's golden skin.

"Gross!" Ste suddenly squealed, laughing as he did the same to Brendan.

Brendan found himself smiling and laughing as well.

* * *

Brendan and Ste had somehow ended up sitting on the sofa together, both bare chested and jeans still unbuttoned and zips down. Ste had his head rested against Brendan's shoulder.

"You know, I thought," Ste started, breaking the silence that they'd grown comfortable in.

He hesitated, as if unsure of how to continue.

"What?" Brendan asked, eager to know what Ste was wanting to say.  
"It's stupid." Ste muttered, pressing his face closer to Brendan's shoulder.  
"Just say it, yeh idiot." Brendan retorted playfully.  
"I thought," Ste reluctantly continued, "I thought you was gonna die."

The silence seemed to embrace them again. Brendan wasn't sure how to respond. What was he supposed to say?

"But," Ste carried on, "I'm glad you didn't."

Brendan's chest felt light. He wished he could say something back, but he couldn't bring himself to. How could something so wrong feel so right?

Instead of talking, Brendan lifted his arm and put it over Ste's back, his skin still warm and glowing. Brendan turned and pressed his nose against Ste's hair, slowly breathing him in. Ste began slowly playing with some of the hair on Brendan's chest. He'd sometimes felt insecure about that hair, and whether it would seem normal, but right now, it felt perfect to have it.

Suddenly Brendan stopped as his eyes spotted the digital clock on the television.

"Fuck!" Brendan exclaimed, a flash of anxiety rushing over him.  
"What?" Ste asked, slowly peeling himself away from Brendan.

Brendan jumped up, doing up his pants and running around, trying to find his shirt and coat.

"What is it?" Ste asked again, getting up as well.  
"It's almost ten. Seamus will kill me if I'm not home!" Brendan said frantically, as he rummaged through the sofa pillows, still looking for his shirt.

Ste saw the t-shirt on the hallway floor, and quickly went and picked it up, handing it to Brendan. Their hands brushed each other's and Brendan still felt a shock run through his body. His cheeks flushed as he remembered what they'd done earlier.

Brendan pulled the shirt over his head and slipped the coat over his shoulders. He made his way to the door, and swung it open, before suddenly stopping, and striding back over to Ste.

"Merry Christmas Steven." He whispered, his body now really close to Ste's.

Brendan looked down at Ste's lips, but without pursuing him more, he turned around and left Ste's house.

* * *

When Brendan arrived home, it was as though he'd never left. Blanaid and Cheryl were standing in the kitchen waiting for a batch of cookies, baking in the oven, that Brendan could smell from the moment he'd stepped foot inside the house. Seamus was in his study.

Blanaid yelled out and told Brendan to get ready for a family game they were going to start in half an hour. Brendan decided to go upstairs and take a shower before doing anything. What if they could smell him? Smell Ste on him?

As the warm water rushed over his body, he felt overcome by memories of an hour ago. Of how amazing he'd felt. Of how different and new it felt to be so overcome by that feeling. To feel like he was really being touched in the right spot, in the right way. Brendan felt his cock twitching, so he decided to think of something else. He wouldn't have enough time to pull one out. His hands moved to his chest and he felt the silver chain pressed firmly against his skin. It was beautiful. Just like its original owner. Just like the smile she had. Just like how safe she'd made Brendan feel. Maybe he was finally under her protection again. After a long time.

Once he was showered and clean again, Brendan found himself downstairs, sitting on the sofa next to Cheryl. Blanaid and Cheryl had planned to play a game of Charades. Brendan always found these games extremely cheesy and corny, but he was in a good mood now. He would be able to enjoy himself.

Cheryl and Brendan were paired, and after a lot of argument, Cheryl chose their team name, "Vibrant Sparkles".

Despite the setting, they all took the game quite seriously. Brendan needed to win. It wasn't about Charades, it was about everything else. He needed to prove that he could win a simple game.

Throughout the evening, Brendan couldn't seem to stay focussed. It kept lingering to his memories. To the memory of earlier that night. Of Ste's touch. Of the way he'd made him feel.

"Brendan!" Cheryl shouted.  
"What?" Brendan asked, suddenly drawn out of his train of thought.  
"Automatic lose!" Blanaid chirped.  
"Brendan!" Cheryl shouted again.  
"Sorry." Brendan said, realising that he'd lost the point for him and Cheryl.

He looked over and saw Cheryl pouting as she sat back against the couch.  
"Hey, hey! I'll make it up to you." Brendan said, urging a smile out of her.  
"Not tonight," Seamus suddenly said, breaking his own silence, "I'm tired and want to get some rest now."

Seamus stood up and stumbled over to his study. He'd obviously already had quite some to drink, while the others had simply been playing the game. And the study only meant he'd have even more to drink.

After Blanaid, Cheryl and Brendan had cleared up most the snack dishes, the glasses, and the games, Cheryl went to bed.

"So Brendan..." Blanaid began as she continued to wash a plate in the sink.  
"Yeah?" He responded, pausing from his current chore of stacking the clean plates into the cupboard.  
"Where'd you run off to earlier?" She said, her tone laced with knowing.  
"Just to see a friend." Brendan replied quickly, hoping she'd just drop it.  
"A female friend?" Blanaid asked, turning and smirking at Brendan.

Brendan felt himself blush.

"Knew it," Blanaid teased, "It's adorable."

Brendan continued stacking some clean dishes into the cupboard and simply let Blanaid carry on. She could believe whatever she wanted to. Just the way the women in the family were.

By the time the kitchen, dining room, and sitting room were all cleared, Blanaid asked Brendan to go check on Seamus.

It was already really late and Brendan didn't feel comfortable going and seeking out the unpredictable, drunk beast. But Blanaid had already gone to bed, and Brendan felt it was his duty to do as she'd asked, so he reluctantly dragged himself to Seamus' office.

He pushed the door open and saw a big figure, collapsed on the brown leather armchair. Brendan could smell the liquor from the door.

Was Seamus still even alive?

Brendan's heart began racing as he slowly moved towards the armchair, as though approaching a rabid animal in the wild. When he was close enough for the smell to properly invade his nose, Seamus suddenly snorted and turned over.

Brendan jumped back and held his breath, hoping that Seamus wasn't going to get angry.

Seamus suddenly rolled over and began snoring.

Brendan felt a wave of relief wash over him.

Seamus was asleep, and Brendan could sleep with ease.

Today had been a good day.


	16. Chapter 16

**I think I have to start this by apologising for not having updated in weeks. I've been rather swamped by exams, but they're over, and here this is. Thank you for reviewing and following - I really do appreciate every comment, no matter how short or long. Oh and the lovely cover that is now used for this story, was made by the wonderful Tumblr user: beautifulfreaks-. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Brendan woke with a feeling of discomfort. Something about the bed sheets, or the way his boxers felt on him, or the sweat against his chest. Something just felt odd. He decided to get up and try to shower away the feeling. Blast it with ice cold water and hope that it'd be gone by the time his skin was frozen and wrinkled.

While he stood in the shower, the bathroom door locked, his mind began racing. The image of Steven slowly began to form again. A blast of memories of the day before came rushing to him. Ste's skin warm and moist against his own. The tight feeling of Ste's hand around his cock. The way he and Ste released as they heavily panted against each other.

Brendan felt his own cheeks going red thinking about it. His stomach began to twist and he felt uneasy again. What if someone had walked in on them? What if Seamus would find out what had happened?

They would all think Brendan was some dirty little queer then. His reputation would be gone, and he'd never be able to show his face in public anymore. It wasn't normal was he had done. He wasn't normal. Nothing about the situation was.

But somehow the image wouldn't go away. And to make it worse, he felt himself growing harder and harder at the thought of it all. Before he could stop himself, he was holding on and squeezing until he felt blinded by the intensity of his hand moving and the thought of Ste.

His heavy pace of his heart racing began to slow down. The unsettling feeling in his stomach was returning and he felt dirty. Brendan reached for the soap and tried to scrub the dirty thoughts and memories off of him.

Brendan shut his eyes tight and tried to think of something else. Anything else really.

* * *

The entire day felt off to him. Every time he made eye contact with someone, he felt as though he was blatantly lying to their face. Like they could see right through him. They would just see in his eyes what a disgusting person he really was. So he avoided human contact at all costs. Told them he was still feeling sick after the accident. Told them his body didn't feel like it could handle too much action. Told them his head felt like it was pounding. Told them he felt like throwing up every time he went out into the daylight.

So they left him alone. No more questions asked.

After several days of staying hidden away in his room, Seamus decided it had been enough. It was New Year's Eve, and the Bradys were invited to the Nolan's house for a soiree.

Blanaid and Seamus had been arguing about whether Brendan should go or not, and Brendan could hear everything while buried under his covers, in his dark room, behind the closed door.

"He still isn't feeling well!" Blanaid was saying angrily.  
"He's just been lying there like a fucking vegetable!" Seamus snarled in response.

Brendan could imagine the look on his face right now. The venomous, nasty, remorseless, animalistic look. He knew it all too well.

"Seamus, just let him be…" Blanaid said in a more quiet tone now.  
"He's going to the Nolan's party," Seamus replied without hesitation, "I'm not going to let him make a mockery of us. They invited us, and we're not going to be rude by just not letting him show up."

Brendan heard Blanaid mutter a feeble "okay" in response before she opened the door to his room and told him to get ready. Brendan didn't have it in him to fight back. He knew she had already battled for him, and it shouldn't have been her battle to fight.

She moved to his closet and took out some a nice buttoned shirt, some suit pants and the matching blazer. After putting them neatly in a stack on his desk chair, she came and sat down next to Brendan on the bed.

"Listen dear, I know you're not feeling well, but you still have to come to the party, okay?" Her words were sweet and warm. It reminded Brendan of his childhood. Being cared for, and looked after.

She moved her hand to Brendan's face and gently pressed her hand to his cheek for a brief moment before she got up and left him in the darkness of his own room.

After overcoming his initial reluctance, Brendan finally got up and took the clothes to the bathroom to properly freshen up. If he was going to have to go out and play the part of happy guy, he'd have to at least look the part as well. Once he'd taken a shower, he found himself looking into the fogged up mirror, observing the person he knew as 'himself'. He still looked the same as he had months before, but he felt so damn different. Just like the glass of the mirror, he felt as though he could easily be smashed, and his whole resolve would just break.

Brendan then reached for the can of shaving cream and applied it to his face, thick and creamy, and then gently scraped it away with the razor. Once his face was smooth, he dabbed some aftershave onto the fresh skin, ignoring the slight burn from the alcohol against the open pores. Brendan got dressed and carefully tucked the silver chain underneath his buttoned shirt. The metal still felt cold against his skin. But it was a comfort. Brendan felt safer with it.

The fog in the mirror had cleared up and Brendan could properly see himself now. He did look good. Brendan found himself wondering if Ste would be there. If he would be dressed up. Would he be wearing a suit? A buttoned shirt over his sun-kissed skin? Slacks that seemed to ease over his curves in the right way? Brendan suddenly stopped and mentally gave himself a slap. _Eileen_. It would be Eileen who would be there. Eileen would be the one to be wearing a pretty outfit. A dress. One that was supposed to highlight her features in the right way. One that the guys would turn around and tell each other that she looked hot, and they'd definitely have a go if they had a chance. Eileen would be the one he'd have to go up to, and give a kiss in front of everyone. So they could see that he was hers. And she was his.

He sighed.

This didn't seem easy. Putting on his face. Plastering on a smile. Making everyone believe he was fine, even though there were waves crashing against the walls inside his mind. Begging to break free.

Before he could mentally torture himself anymore, Brendan threw on his shiny, black waistcoat over the white buttoned shirt and left the bathroom.

* * *

The minute the Bradys entered the Nolan household, they were swarmed by servers with platters filled with gourmet foods, and treys with glasses of champagne. Brendan watched as Seamus greedily snatched one before mongering off to the study, where the other fathers would be gathering to smoke some Cubans.

When Blanaid had her back turned, Brendan made a reach for a glass of the champagne as well. He was legal to drink it, but she'd been extra watchful after his accident. Those were the unspoken words. And Brendan didn't feel like breaking that peculiar bond just yet. He downed the glass in two and felt the tingling rush down his throat, bubbling and warming his stomach. This was all he really needed.

Before Brendan had a chance to make his break and go find a room where he could mope around in by himself, Cheryl took him by the arm and pulled him to join the other teenagers. Brendan pulled back and stood still.

"Brendan, I know you haven't spoken to anyone in ages, so now is your chance!" Cheryl told him knowingly.  
"But I don't want to, Cheryl." Brendan sighed back in response. He didn't have the effort to get into a big fight.  
"Just do it," Cheryl replied, "For me."

Brendan sighed and nodded before letting her continue pulling him into the crowd of unseen people.

They made their way to one of the smaller, back rooms, where people their age were lounging around on the sofas. Brendan scanned the room for a blonde head of hair. For the monkey smile. But his hopes dropped when he wasn't there.

"Hey honey!" Someone shouted before running and squeezing Brendan tightly.  
"Hey Eileen." Brendan replied, squeezing her back, hoping he was sounding enthusiastic enough.  
"I've missed you so much." She told Brendan, her voice wavering.  
"I've missed you too." Brendan said back without hesitation. Truth was that he'd hardly even given her a single thought. Except for when the guilt of thinking about Ste caught up with him.

She took him by the hand and pulled him next to her on a one seater sofa. Brendan felt too claustrophobic. She was too close to him and he felt like he couldn't breathe. Her long brown hair tickled against his arm. He tried to casually move his arm to a somewhat more comfortable position, but nothing he did made it feel like he could just settle in. Then she was sitting up, pushing Brendan towards the centre of the sofa, and sitting on his lap. Her hair was in his face, and he couldn't help but begin to feel angry.

It wasn't her fault. It really wasn't.

But Brendan couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm just gonna go get something to eat or drink." Brendan quickly mumbled into her ear, before lightly pushing her off and making his way out the doorway, as the group of teenagers gazed off after him.

Brendan didn't want to hear the conversations, but he was sure what they'd be about. They'd be talking about how much of a fuck up he was. How he'd gotten into an accident. _Apparently the other driver was drunk. No, they said he drank to much. His alcohol level was really high._ It all pissed Brendan off. Because none of them actually knew. So what if he'd had a bit much to drink? Alcohol wasn't the only thing to make a person turn dark…

The house was filled to the brim, and it seemed as though there was nowhere he could be in peace. Anywhere he went, he was bombarded with people he just didn't have the energy to deal with now. If they were parents, they'd ask him about how school was getting on, what and if he'd been planning for later studies, and they'd ask about girlfriends. And if they were people his age, they'd attempt to carry out discussions about some stupid, trivial thing, which in a day's time wouldn't even be remembered.

In the end Brendan settled on standing on the upstairs balcony of the house. Since it was Winter, hardly anyone had the guts to go outside.

The noise of music and people chattering was muffled outside, and seemed to almost harmonise with the silence of the night. It felt surprisingly warm where Brendan was standing, his wrists gently rested on the railing.

Brendan's thoughts were suddenly interrupted as the balcony door was opened.

"Sorry I didn't realise someone was here."

Steven.

"It's alright." Brendan responded without hesitation.  
"Brendan?" Ste asked.

Brendan simply grunted in response and continued to look ahead into the dark garden. The next thing he knew, Ste was standing next to him, resting his elbows on the railings. The sides of their arms were excruciatingly close, but not yet touching. Heat seemed to radiate off of Ste. Brendan tried not to look.

"What are you thinking?" Ste asked, breaking the formed silence again.  
"The night." Brendan replied ambiguously, "Anything can happen in the night. When the darkness comes, vulnerability takes over. In all the greats it's the peak of the plots. Because in the shadows of the night, without any prying eyes, that's when people make their moves. Take Macbeth, the murder happens at night. Take Othello, romance and murders happen at night. Take Romeo & Juliet, their love affair continues, concealed in the darkness of the night."

Brendan suddenly stopped, realising the direction in which he'd taken the conversation. He continued looking forward, resisting the voice inside him, begging him to just answer the question it had come up with earlier. What was he wearing?

"I guess you're right," Ste spoke up this time, his accent shining strong in contrast with Brendan's, "I mean, like you said, it's when the murder of the king is done in Macbeth. The blood on their hands is seen even though it's night, right?"  
"Yeah, exactly!" Brendan exclaimed, suddenly turning and seeing Ste looking out to the garden.

He was wearing a suit. Just like Brendan had been hoping. It somehow seemed perfectly fitted. Although it didn't seem like Ste's family had extra money hanging around for going to tailors. It just suited him. His eyes seemed to glisten from the moonlight. It made Brendan think back to the night in the alleyway outside the pub. When Ste had found Brendan and they had talked.

"I never really thought any of them plays was really interesting," Ste began, "I mean until you properly explained them to me."  
Brendan found himself chuckling.  
"Don't laugh at me!" Ste said giggling, "I mean all those fancy mumbo-jumbo words! How would I ever know any of them?!"

Brendan knew he was smiling. This was the first time he'd felt like smiling in ages. The last time he had felt like this was when he was with Ste on Christmas Day.

He turned back and looked out into the yard. There were teenagers now crowding by some of the trees. Probably piss drunk.

Suddenly Ste reached over and covered Brendan's hand with his own. It was so warm, and it sent sparks through Brendan's body. He couldn't help but let his mind wander. He could make a move. Maybe he could kiss Ste again.

But then he was hit by the harsh realisation; they were surrounded by an entire party full of people they knew. If any single one of them were to walk in on of any this, they'd be dubbed freaks by the entire community.

Brendan found himself quickly pulling his hand away. He couldn't let this happen. This was not right. Men don't hold hands. Only queers do.

And Brendan wasn't a queer.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Brendan snapped, his voice uncontrolled and frantic.  
"I just thought since," He winked slightly, "You know."  
"No, please enlighten me." He began, his words icy sharp.  
"What happened on Christmas day." Ste continued, his pupils blown and a wild look on his face.

Brendan turned around, gazing back at the garden. He couldn't bare to look at Steven anymore. Wasn't sure what he'd do if he kept on looking. Ste might end up either with a fist in his face, or Brendan's lips pressed against him. And Brendan just didn't want to take that risk. He couldn't.

"You know what?" Ste began, grabbing Brendan's shoulder and turning him to face Ste.  
"What?" Brendan replied back.  
"I'm sick and tired of this. This hot and cold thing of yours. You kiss me one day, then get angry at me the next for looking at you the wrong way. I don't know what's going on in that fucked up head of yours, and I don't think I even want to!"

Suddenly Brendan was alone. Ste had somehow stormed off and left Brendan, blast by Ste's outburst. Brendan sighed and hit the railing with his clenched fist, immediately regretting it after a shock of pain ran through his hand.

As he was standing alone, his hand ringing in pain, Brendan felt hopeless. Why did he always end up in these situations? Left alone in the dark. Except this wasn't some tragedy of epic proportions, where every word leaving his mouth was intricately chosen to fit perfectly with the poetic structure of his speech. There'd be no prose, no plot line, no great protagonist, no antihero, none of it.

This was the real world. Nothing could be solved by a simple change in the manuscript.

* * *

People around the house began to become lost in themselves or others. They'd all had just that bit too much to drink and were letting loose. Brendan tried to avoid anyone who he could smell from across the room. Unfortunately for him, somehow he had ended up in the room with some of the fathers.

It seemed to all be a competition with them. Whose son was better in school. Whose son was the better rugby player. Whose son seemed to be getting the most girlfriends. None of the fathers would be able to keep face if their son turned out to be a loser. It was moments like these that were some of the only times Brendan heard good things about himself come out his father's mouth. When it was riding on him to make an impression to the other fathers.

Brendan tried to stay hidden in the corner of the room, but after Seamus seemed to spot him, he made his way over to Brendan, stumbling as he did. Seamus then took Brendan by the arm and pulled him into the hallway.

"You better not be causing any trouble here!" Seamus whispered venomously to Brendan.  
"I'm not, Da." Brendan mumbled in response.  
"Good."

Seamus stopped and looked at Brendan as if contemplating would to do. His eyes were glazed over, and Brendan could spot the patches of sweat clustering around his armpits. Brendan wanted to move away. Wanted to just leave him. But he couldn't.

"Now run along like a good little girl, Brenda." Seamus then said, rolling his tongue as he said 'Brenda'.

Brendan cringed. He really was just a pathetic little girl in his father's eyes. Nothing he could ever do would impress him or make him treat him like a normal son.

And then Brendan was storming through the house. His blood burning as he entered every room, only to be let down by the absence of someone. There were other people. Not none of them were the person he was looking for. He'd ignored as Cheryl called after him, pretending he'd never heard her. He had ignored Lynsey as she tried to get him to get her some of the stronger liquor. He had ignored all the guy friends as they attempted to peruse him, and just get him to come and sit down and be with them.

And he had looked the other way when Eileen's eyes met his. He didn't want to deal with her now. Already felt himself cringing as he imagined the way her clingy hands would grip his body and try to caress him. He just couldn't take it.

It was only in one of the upstairs rooms, where he found who he was looking for, just sitting staring out the window, lost in their own thought.

"Steven." Brendan said.

His heart was racing as he closed the door behind him and twisted the lock.

Ste turned around, a frown etched heavily on his brow.

"What do you want?" He asked followed by a sigh.

Brendan didn't respond, just went and sat down next to Ste on what he realised now was a bed.

"I asked you a question." Ste continued.

Brendan looked closely into his face and saw that the skin surrounding his blue eyes was red.

"Steven, what happened?" Brendan suddenly asked, unable to handle the thought of Ste hurting.  
"What do you think?" Ste snapped back angrily.  
"Is this because of me?" Brendan asked.  
"What do you think?"

Steven sniffled and turned around, facing the wall. Brendan sighed. Why did he always seem to fuck things up? He had to make Ste feel better. But he wouldn't apologise. He _couldn't_ apologise for pulling his hand away on the balcony. It was just the way things were.

Brendan moved closer to Ste and reached his arm around to touch Ste's soft cheek. He pulled him closer and then rested his forehead against Ste's. Brendan looked up into Ste's desperate eyes. Searching. Speaking. Trying to say everything he couldn't manage to say out loud. _This was the way things had to be._

And then it was as though Ste understood. Or something like that must've happened, because now Ste's lips were pressed against Brendan's. Anxious and yielding, like it just had to be. Their mouths seemed to dance against each other. Brendan felt his skin burning all over. He had craved this feeling. Had dreamt about it for days since their last real encounter.

Ste gently pulled Brendan on top of him as he fell backwards onto the cushioning of the bed. Brendan's entire body was now covering Ste's. They both seemed to be shaking slightly. Maybe it was just because of the cold weather outside.

Brendan stopped and looked down into Ste's eyes. This felt real. For the first time in a long time things felt real to him again. He wasn't angry. He wasn't sad. He was just there. Brendan couldn't help but feel the urge to have Ste against him. Feel his fingers running through his hair. The prickle of Ste's short hair on the side of his head run against his cheeks. His cheeks burned at the thought of feeling the prickle elsewhere on his body.

Then Ste had his hand up against Brendan's lips. It felt odd to be touched this way. To have him gazing deeply into Brendan's eyes as he gently stroked the sensitive skin of his lips.

"Let lips do what hands do." Brendan whispered in a trance.

Ste looked confused as though he didn't get the reference, but Brendan simply moved towards Ste's face and reengaged in their deep kiss.

It didn't seem like enough. Nothing seemed to be enough right now. Ste's hands moved and began pushing Brendan's blazer of his shoulders, discarding it next to them on the bed. Brendan felt and realised that Ste wasn't wearing a blazer, so he tackled the next thing: his shirt. He carefully undid each button, as he continued kissing Ste, his lips never feeling tired or overworked. Once he opened the shirt, Ste almost automatically lifted up and let Brendan push it over his shoulders and off onto the bed underneath Ste's torso.

Brendan peered down and saw the golden skin of Ste's chest glinting from a slight bit of sweat. He stopped and took a moment to carefully observe the details of Ste. He had a few birthmarks spread out over his chest. Next to his nipples. Brendan found himself carefully running his thumb over Ste's chest, making circular movements over Ste's right nipple. Ste groaned in response and lifted his groin up against Brendan's. Brendan felt a thrill run through him as their crotches met through layers of material.

Then Brendan let his hand move further down Ste's chest. Reaching the smooth fabric of his suit pants. Brendan unbuttoned the top and unzipped without thinking. It just felt so instinctual.

And before he could stop himself, he was gripping onto Ste's hardened cock. Pressing and squeezing as he moved back and forth from the base to the foreskin, rubbing delicately and having Ste moan into his mouth in response.

There was some sort of drive in Brendan. Like an external driving force, pushing him forward and helping him continue. Urging him. Pleading him to just give Ste that release. Somehow it would seem to make up to him. Make up for all the shit that had gone on earlier.

Ste was heavily panting against Brendan's neck now. Ste had managed to unbutton the front of Brendan's shirt, and their chests were slick against each other.

After a few more strokes, Brendan heard Ste gutter and then let out a long gasp as he felt the white hot cream over his hand.

Brendan rolled off of Ste and laid down next to him, staring up at the white ceiling.

"Brendan..." Ste began, already coming down from his high.  
"Mhm..." Brendan muttered in response, too tired mentally and physically to say anything more.  
"Why do you always get so angry?"

Brendan looked over at Ste and saw his eyes wide and open. He seemed to be genuinely curious. As though he really didn't know what was going on here was disgusting.

"This," Brendan began, "This is just the way it has to be."

Ste continued looking at him, as though pleading him to explain some more. To really justify the way he was acting. But he wasn't going to get another response.

So instead, Ste moved his hands across Brendan's chest and reached for his groin over his trousers. He then looked up to Brendan under his long eyelashes and gave him a long look, as if to tell him he was about to return the favour.


	17. Chapter 17

**Apologies for not writing anything sooner! Hope you can enjoy this regardless of how late it's been posted. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Ste's breath was hot against Brendan's neck. Brendan felt himself squirm as Ste pressed the side of his body against Brendan's. His hands seemed to be everywhere. They delicately ran over the coarse hair on Brendan's chest before they reached the buckle of Brendan's belt.

Before Brendan knew what was happening, Ste's hands were wrapped around his hardened cock and they were pulling. It felt familiar, yet still so new and exciting.

The music from the rest of the house was pumping and every beat could be felt on the bed. It was such an ecstatic feeling and Brendan felt so overwhelmed. He pressed his mouth against Ste's chest and gently sucked at the soft, smooth skin there. Brendan had almost stopped, out of fear that someone would see a mark and question Ste, but Brendan was pretty sure nobody would be staring at Ste's naked chest anytime soon. Or at least he hoped no one would be.

As the pressure on his cock felt stronger, Brendan began clenching his toes, trying to somewhat contain himself. Ste was working along Brendan's shaft, dancing along, and with the other hand had his balls and was gently fondling them.

Brendan was nearing his climax as he started wondering how he could be even closer to Ste. He just wanted to feel him, properly be against him. Just maximise these feelings of ecstasy. How would he even? Before he could answer his own internal questions, he shot out his load and looked at Ste, whose hand was now covered in Brendan's cum.

Ste's eyes were light and he had a smirk across his face.

"What?" Brendan asked, suddenly overcome with an unsettling feeling in his gut.  
"Nothing…" Ste replied, quietly getting up and grabbing a tissue from a tissue box next to the bed.

Brendan's eyes followed Ste's figure across the room. Ste hadn't yet had a chance to get dressed again, and Brendan couldn't find it in him to tell him to get dressed. Brendan began to wonder where Ste's slacks and boxers had gone, until he remembered that they had been casually thrown off onto the floor in an attempt to free Ste's body up. Ste's golden skin seemed to somehow glint in the dim light of the bedroom. His cock hung loosely between his legs. When Ste bent down to pick up the box of tissues, Brendan felt a twitching in his now flaccid cock. He was surprised by the reaction his body was giving. There was just something about Ste's bum… It was round and almost peachy, and it looked firm.

"What are you looking at?" Ste asked while looking at Brendan from over his shoulder.  
"Nothing." Brendan quickly responded shortly before grabbing one of the pillows and using it to cover up his own growing cock.

Silence seemed to take over the room apart from the fumbling of the tissues against Ste's hand. Brendan suddenly felt himself turn red as his mind seemed to explore the idea of rubbing his cock against Ste's firm bum. He coughed and cleared his throat, causing Ste to turn around and look at Brendan with an inquisitive look.

"I'm gonna get back to the party." Brendan said, breaking the deafening silence.

He stood up and found his boxers lying underneath the bed. He slid them up, causing his cock to feel confined despite its growing eagerness. The different parts of his outfit had somehow managed to end up in several different places in the room. Brendan tried to find the pieces without looking at Ste, who was now lying on the bed naked. Brendan stopped for a moment and looked over at Ste. His breath hitched and he couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from Ste. Ste had his eyes closed and his arms folded on his chest as he slowly rubbed his forearms. His dick just lay against his hairy inner thigh. Brendan had never really observed somebody in this way before. Scanning their body. Getting the urge just to look for a bit more. Almost plead for the other person to open their eyes and gaze back, but Ste's eyes remained closed.

Brendan finished getting dressed, and left the room after checking to see that there wasn't anyone lurking in the hallway.

* * *

The party just seemed to have grown rowdier now that most of the guests had a larger amount of alcohol flowing in their blood. The other teenagers had taken over the back part of the house and were yelling, shouting, dancing and simply not caring what happened. Other guys Brendan's age were pestering girls to go and "find an empty bedroom" upstairs so they could do whatever. Most of the girls were too drunk to properly respond.

Brendan scanned the room, looking for Cheryl. He had hoped that she had been smart enough to not drink much with this crowd of people.

"Brendan!" Eileen yelled from across the room.

His stomach dropped when he realised that Eileen had had a few drinks too many and she was going to be extra _touchy_.

"Baby, you're so hot!" She tried to whisper erotically into his ear.

Brendan tried to ignore the creeping feeling crawling underneath his skin. He gently took her by the hands and casually pushed her a bit away.

"Why do you keep doing this?" She asked, her words slurred.  
"Doing what?" Brendan asked nonchalant.  
"Pushing me away." Eileen answered with a pout across her face and her chin sticking out.

She didn't manage to pull off the Bambi look like someone else who came to his mind. Her pouting definitely didn't pull at his gut like Ste's did.

"I'm not, baby!" Brendan argued back, reluctantly pulling her back in and giving her a peck on the cheek, "I was just trying to find my sister."  
"Oh okay," Eileen replied, entirely accepting his response, "I think she went somewhere with Eoin."  
"With Eoin? Where? Why?" Brendan began asking frantically.

He knew that Cheryl fancied Eoin, but he thought Eoin was still caught up with Lynsey. But then again, guys were guys, and they rarely ever thought with the right head. What if he was planning on taking advantage of Cheryl? Of his little sister? Brendan couldn't let that happen. She was too fragile for him to just use her and then break her heart.

"They just went outside or something. Why does it matter, Brendan? Let's go somewhere else together," Eileen began saying, her damp, alcohol drenched breath too close against Brendan's face, "Let's fuck."

It made Brendan's skin crawl. She tried to be seductive, but it was beginning to feel almost repulsive. He could already foresee what would happen if they did go "somewhere else". She'd pull at his skin, urge him to enter her and grab at his ass to go faster. He'd close his eyes and power through it all, because he was a man, and that's what men do.

But right now, he had to find his sister, because men have to protect the women they care about as well. And he was a man.

"No, Eileen." Brendan said before he walked off.

The moment Brendan stepped outside he was hit by a gust of cold air, much stronger than when he was standing outside on the balcony. Probably because it was getting hotter and hotter inside. He peered around, wishing that for he had been blessed by the superpower of night vision. But unfortunately he was a mere mortal, and had to figure out where Cheryl was using the dim moonlight present and the sounds people outside were making.

He walked through the damp grass, hoping that his shoes were waterproof, because he didn't want the leather to get screwed up. Brendan could see his own breath creating momentary fog in front of his face as he breathed in and out.

"Cheryl?" Brendan called out into the darkness.

There were several people out here. Most being teenagers hiding away in the darkness as they carried out their trivial romantic affairs. Not that any of them mattered anyway. None of them knew what a true romance was. Of epic proportions. So vast and deep they themselves couldn't comprehend it. None of them would experience that. They'd get butterflies, they'd smile when they saw each other. But that was it. Their love for each other was only conditional.

"Cheryl?" Brendan called out again. He was getting a bit more agitated now.

Why would she just walk off with Eoin? A guy like that could do anything he wanted to in the dark. It wasn't a safe world. Too many people lived in their own ignorant, oblivious little worlds.

"I can show you…" Brendan heard a familiar voice at the edge of the forest. It sounded like Eoin.

Brendan began running. Did Eoin think he could just use Cheryl like that?! Just "show" her his fucking disgusting dick or something?! Brendan could feel his blood boil. He didn't care whatsoever if Eoin was his friend. If he was taking advantage of his sister, he would throw the kid to the ground and beat him till he was bleeding.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Brendan yelled, as he reached for Eoin's shoulder and spun him around.  
"Calm down, Brendan!" Eoin replied frantically, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights, "I was just showing Cheryl some photographs I took."

Brendan looked down and saw a few photographs in Eoin's hand, gently stacked on top of his wallet. He released Eoin's shoulder, realising he'd still been holding it in a tight clench.

"My God, Brendan!" Cheryl sighed angrily before storming off towards the house.  
"Cheryl!" Brendan called after her. It was useless. She was going to go back to where there were more people. Where it was more safe.

"You look angry, Brendan. What's up?" Eoin asked, his attention now turned to his friend.  
"Nothing." Brendan replied coldly. He didn't appreciate his friends trying to get one on one time with his baby sister.  
"Girl troubles?"  
"Do I look like I have fucking girl troubles?!" Brendan snapped, "I have girls lining up left and right, because they want me to fuck them. So no, I don't have girl troubles!"  
"Jesus, Brady. Don't know who killed your mother to get you so angry." Eoin said before walking back towards the house.

Brendan felt the remark hit him in the gut. No one should be allowed to talk about her that way. They didn't know what it was like. To lose someone. To really lose someone who meant so much.

Before he would let himself be overcome with bitter nostalgia, Brendan decided to venture back inside. He wasn't ready for his night to turn to sorrow.

* * *

By the time midnight had come, Brendan was more than ready to leave. Somehow he'd managed to end up back in the clingy arms of Eileen, squished next to her on the sofa in a room full of wasted people. The loud, drunk teenagers had begun to count down from 60. The yells echoed throughout the entire house.

_60…_

What did it matter anyway? More than half the world was already in the next year. It was just time passing, none of this trivial celebration really mattered.

_50…_

Eileen was sucking on his neck, trying to leave her mark somehow. The guys would see it and they'd high five him for being a good player.

_40…_

Brendan saw Cheryl sitting by the door alone. He wished she'd find someone who was good enough for her. She deserved it. Just no Eoin.

_30…_

He started to wonder where Seamus and Blanaid were. Were they enjoying themselves? Or were they following the typical social graces and socialising separately in the study and the kitchen?

_20…_

Would this year actually be better? Would a New Year's wish actually even make a difference?

_10…_

Eileen was grabbing at Brendan's face, pulling him in, ready for a New Year's kiss.

_9…_

Brendan wanted to close his eyes.

_8…_

He wanted to pretend it was someone else.

_7…_

He wanted to feel that deep connection in the final moments of the year.

_6…_

Eileen pulled Brendan's face to look him in the eyes.

_5…_

Eileen's eye makeup was smeared.

_4…_

Eileen slowly licked her lips to moisten them.

_3…_

Brendan saw a familiar blonde head in the corner of his eye.

_2…_

He found himself wanted to go over and seize him for that moment.

_1…_

Eileen pressed up against Brendan and kissed him with all her might. Brendan's eyes were still open and he saw Ste staring at him. As though he just wasn't sure what to do. He looked almost hurt.

Didn't he understand by now that this was how they would do things?

Brendan grabbed at Eileen's hair and ran his hands through it. He closed his eyes and made the kiss deeper. He had to prove to Steven that he could be a man. Because men kiss women when the clock strikes midnight.

When Brendan opened his eyes next and looked for Ste in the room, it was too late; Ste was already gone.

* * *

The next morning Brendan woke up to a silent house. The moment the Brady family had stumbled into the house at about three thirty in the morning, Brendan had fallen onto his bed and crashed. He wasn't sure how long the others had stayed up, but before he'd fallen asleep, he had heard Cheryl gossiping on the phone. So Brendan wasn't surprised when everyone was still locked inside their own bedrooms, still fast asleep in the morning after the late night. At least it gave him a chance to freshen up in peace.

He first hit the showers, taking care to scrub away any evidence of Ste's presence on his body. He craved for the feeling of Ste's body against his. His body was dying for it to happen again. But this game he was playing was a risky one, and he couldn't have anyone finding out.

Brendan's knee was feeling a bit better, so despite the fact that he'd just gotten out the shower, Brendan changed into some sports clothes, and left the house with a note of the counter that read '_off for a run, B_'. They probably wouldn't even be up before he got back.

The weather had seemed to drastically change overnight, because now it felt so much warmer. The sun was crawling up behind the perfectly designed houses and white picket fences, all lined up on his street. Anyone who came here would probably think this was just a typical neighbourhood. That the people living in these houses were all happy families. A husband, wife, son and daughter.

But they didn't know.

So much shit had seemed to have gone down in the time Brendan lived on that street. And people always found the need to talk about every little rumour or piece of gossip they'd found out. It was common etiquette to discuss the most personal details of other people's lives, and criticise and belittle behind their back.

Brendan remembered the time they'd found out that one of the neighbourhood wives had been having the postman stick it in her. In a matter of hours she'd been rejected by almost every other housewife in the neighbourhood.

He also remembered the time he'd overheard what had happened to a family living two streets down from him, when one day they'd upped and decided to move. Apparently the son was a queer, and some people had found out. He had come home one day, black and blue and his parents interrogated him until he finally confessed. They had decided to leave because they couldn't bare to live in a place where people knew about their son's disgusting habit.

Little did the parents know that it had been a gang of fathers and sons who had ganged up on their son, and not just some school mates in the school yard. Brendan remembered because the cries and pleading for the beating to stop echoed on in his mind. Like a terrible nursery rhyme. Over and over and over again.

Brendan had felt sick to the core. But he had laughed along. Because that's what he was supposed to do: laugh with the other sons and their fathers and enjoy every bit of teaching the _dirty, little, queer_ a lesson.

He shuddered and tried to forget the memory, which was still tingling in his mind. Why was it that memories never seemed to go away? No matter how hard he tried to forget, they just seemed to be tattooed in his memory. They weren't really even tattoos. Because that would imply that he had decided to put them there in the first place. They were first degree burn scars. Ones that would never leave him. The most permanent of marks, tarnishing his unblemished memory.

The roads were still quite empty, except for the occasional walker, typically going for a walk with the dog, or taking the baby out in the pram.

It was peaceful. Brendan's knee was still doing fine, and the pain didn't seem to be as strong anymore. Things seemed to be going a bit better now.

* * *

By the time Brendan was home, the rest of the family was up.

"Brendan, someone called Trip phoned and asked me to tell you that you owe him something." Blanaid told Brendan the instant he entered the kitchen.

He felt his blood run cold. Trip was the one who had given Brendan the bag of pills to sell, and Brendan hadn't returned Trip's rightful part of the takings yet. He'd just been so caught up with the school party, the accident, and everything else to remember it.

"Do I know Trip?" Blanaid then asked.  
"No, just a friend I met in town." Brendan replied, trying to keep his explanation as ambiguous as possible. He couldn't risk her getting mixed up in his private business.

They had had breakfast together. A nice plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Anyone would think this was a beautiful start to what would be a wonderful year. Brendan knew otherwise.

What would happen if he didn't get the money to Trip soon enough? He'd never been late on any of his previous payments. He'd only heard scare stories about people who still owed Trip money. They'd all casually 'vanished', never to be seen again. Brendan knew they were all exaggerations, but he couldn't help but feel somewhat frightened at the prospect of his punishment if he didn't get the money to Trip on time.

"So Cheryl, did you have fun yesterday?" Blanaid asked, trying to start up some healthy conversation at the table.  
"Yeah!" She said excitedly, "I got to talking to Eoin, and I think he's just so sweet!"  
"Of course you do…" Brendan sighed under his breath.  
"You're just jealous, because I have someone who I actually like!" Cheryl snapped at Brendan.

Seamus turned and stared at Brendan, as though questioning why he wasn't man enough to have a woman.

"I have Eileen." Brendan argued back, trying to stand his ground while seated in the wooden dining chair.

He looked back at Seamus and saw a look of something that seemed to resemble pride in his darkened eyes.

"Let's please not ruin breakfast by arguing." Blanaid said sweetly before changing the topic to something about some gossip she had heard at the party, "Apparently some people were occupying the bedrooms during the party. They left a big mess up there."

Brendan tried to stop himself from going red. He had been up there. With Ste. And they'd definitely left a mess. He couldn't help but recall the image of Ste lying so casually on the bed while being stark naked.

"You went upstairs for a bit didn't you, Brendan?" Cheryl suddenly asked.

_Shit._

Had she seen him going upstairs with Ste? What if she knew?

"Um… Yeah I did." Brendan replied, his cheeks going red.  
"That's my boy!" Seamus exclaimed, a smug smirk forming on his face.

Brendan suddenly realised that Seamus had assumed the person he was with was Eileen. It was a close call. Better to let him believe that then to persuade him otherwise.

* * *

Brendan had been caught up in all the affairs with the family. For some reason he had to sit there as they watched some stupid romance movie, that Brendan couldn't at all sit through. Only very few movies could ever convey things well enough for him to enjoy. They had to tackle the same amount of depth as written pieces, and that just seemed to be too much of a difficult task for film makers. They rather make a trashy, soppy, cliched love story than try something real and raw.

Halfway through the movie the doorbell had rung, and Brendan had been the chosen one to go and open it up. Standing before him was none other than Eoin.

"Mate, what are you doing here?" Brendan asked, curious why his friend would just show up uninvited.  
"Cheryl asked me over. Said she was gonna watch a film, asked if I wanted to join, so I said why not?" He explained calmly with a touch of humour.

Brendan wasn't finding it very funny, but couldn't do anything as Eoin pushed past him and joined Cheryl on the sofa, in Brendan's spot. He kept his mouth shut and pulled up a dining chair.

He tried to ignore the obvious elephant in the room and stayed focused on the ridiculous movie, but he just couldn't manage it. His eyes kept being drawn to Cheryl and Eoin. How they were sitting just too close for comfort. The way their hands seemed to be almost touching on the couch in between their bodies. How could they just sit there like that while Seamus and Blanaid were in the same room?

"May I please be excused?" Brendan asked Seamus quietly.  
"No. We're watching this film as a family." Seamus snapped in response.

Seamus must've been spiking his own orange juice, because Brendan could smell the vodka on his breath. He wasn't surprised. Seamus starting at two in the afternoon wasn't anything new to Brendan.

So Brendan, storing the anger that was only being fueled into the back of his mind, sat back and tried to watch the movie. There came a scene later in the film that left Brendan feeling awkward. When the protagonist and his girlfriend had finally been able to have sex. When they were just intimately sprawled out on the bed on top of each other. Of course since it was a normal movie, there was hardly any nudity. All that was shown was the man rocking on top of the woman.

Brendan's mind drifted off to Steven. Imagining himself being able to lie on top of Steven and rock him. Surely he could do that. Just bury himself deep into Ste, until he couldn't even tell which way was up or down, and then he'd just lose himself. Rock each other into oblivion. That's what he needed.

The scene suddenly took a dramatic turn when the supposed husband of the woman entered the room and saw her and the protagonist. Brendan felt her shame second hand. What if someone were to walk in on him in an awkward situation? Really anyone could walk in on him and Steven? And then they would be shunned just like they had his neighbour. Because he was disgusting and he needed to be taught a lesson.

Brendan sat through the rest of the movie with a scowl etched on his face.

* * *

When Brendan was finally freed of the invisible handcuffs and chains set by Seamus, he ran upstairs, ready to search his drawers for the money he owed Trip. He ignored the sound of Eoin and Cheryl's footsteps on the stairs going to her bedroom, because right now finding the money was more important.

He yanked open his desk drawer and ruffled through the papers he had there. Brendan seemed to remember putting a wad of bills into that drawer after the school party. It should've still been in there, but the deeper in the drawer he dug, the more the harsh realisation dawned upon him.

The money was gone.


End file.
